


Cigarettes and Cola

by Doctorcheekbones



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson - Fandom, bbcsherlock, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Drug Abuse, Eventual Smut, Greaserlock, Greasers, GreasersvsMods, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mild Language, Teenlock, Violence, mods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorcheekbones/pseuds/Doctorcheekbones
Summary: You know what they say... Opposites attract





	1. Unexpected guests

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd try something different and abandon my other teenlock fanfic. This one I think will have a better plot (hopefully) Enjoy :)

John neatly fixed the collar of his Fred Perry poloshirt and tucked the bottom of the material into his tight skinny jeans before taking one last look in his mirror to fix his hair. John flicked his finger tips through the front of his fringe, as a substitute for his missing comb, when his mother stopped at John's open bedroom door. 

"God son," she chuckled "You look like the lost member of the bloody beatles."

" _Mum_ ," John groaned unpleasently.

"It's a good job your good lookin' boy," she sighed and gripped her washing basket that was sitting tightly under one arm. "Oh, Harriet borrowed one of your combs, I found it in her room," John's mother handed him over the missing comb. 

John tutted, snatching the comb from his mother and thowing the plastic on his ready made bed, "I'm going out."

"Are you asking me or telling me?" John's mother raised her brows.

John shot a sympathetic look towards the woman. He didn't mean to snap at her and immediatley regretted it.

"Of course you can," she rolled her eyes with a grin. John's eyes gleamed. "But remember back by half eleven at the latest, I don't you coming in any later, you know I don't like the rockers roaming about at that time."

"They're greasers mother," John said flatly before muttering "Even their name leaves a horrible taste on your tongue."

"Make sure your father doesn't see you going out like that either," John's mother gave a genlte smile "Have a good night son."

John felt sorry for his mother putting up with his father constantly. At least John and Harriet could avoid him by hibernating in their rooms but his mother actually had to share a bedroom with the pig. John _despised_ him: his father would make fun of John for being a mod by calling him 'faggot' and one time he rasied his hand up to John after spending all afternoon at the pub. However John hated his father most of all because of how he treated his mother. There was various ocasions when John had to rush downstairs early in the morning to break up a physical fight between them which resulted John punching his father and getting thrown out. That's why John spends most of his days with his friends that blur his mind of the reality that is what he calls home.

John rushed out of the house wearily, quietly sneaking past the sofa his father was sprawled across with a can of lager in his hand, passed out. This makes John avoid his father shaming him into what he was weairng today. John inhaled a deep breath of fresh air and set route to meet his friends at the diner on the high street.

* * *

 

"Woo" Lestrade screamed from the motorcycle behind Sherlock which emitted laughter from the brunette. 

Sherlock could feel the nippy air rush through his curly fringe; the rest of his hair stayed in place due to the thick layer of gel. Sherlock rode his bike without a helmet - If a helmet meant his hair would get ruined, then he would rather take the risk. 

As the sun was setting, the group of juvenille delinquents were roaring down the backroads of country sides in search of adernaline in any way, shape or form. This was the life of Sherlock Holmes and he _fucking loved it._

Sherlock and his horde stopped their motors and parked up outside a little shop located on the high street. The moment they all got off of their bikes, dressed in leather, denim and covered in hair gel, they recieved dirty looks off of the public; especially the elderly. Nobody ever bothered Sherlock, everyone's opinions were irrelevant except his own, he wouldn't be classed as the most dangerous man but he surely wouldnt be classed as the nicest either. 

At the age of 18 he had moved out and was living alone in a small flat but he was mostly out with his friends as being inside slowed Sherlock down and reminded him of the years of past drug abuse. He still kept in touch with his family because he could always rely on them for anything but Sherlock wanted to be independent even though he was alone most of the time. He only attends school when he wanted to _because he can_ , He smokes when he wants to _because he can_ , He can smash up someones car _because he can_ and he can choose who he hangs about with _becasue he can_.

Sherlock came from a high maintenance family but he decided to be a greaser, what might you deduce about his heart.

"Some beers lads?" Lestade asked. Sherlock snapped his head up to his friend and gave an affirmative smile. "C'mon," Lestrade nudged Anderson playfully and all the greasers enetered the nearest diner.

* * *

"And I said," Mike Stamford chuckled, "Sorry sweetheart, I left my parka jacket back home." 

The booth errupted with laughter. John obeserve his mates all in fits of giggles. This was the best time for John, having a good time with his closest friends that he could depend on. 

Mike went on to finish the story about him and a girl he got off with in the back of his car, "And then she goes."

Just as Mike was continuing the sound of the diner bell rung, the sound filled the atmosphere, indicating someone had entered. John took a long sip of his milkshake and looked up coldly at the figures dressed in leather. John's smile died along with the rest of the mods.

"Oh look what the cat dragged in," John's mod friend, David said bluntly.

John tensed as he studied the juveniles _. One in particular_. He didn't recognise the fella. He was dressed in a leather jacket that shaped his small frame, a white t-shirt clearly worn more than once judging by the faded coffee stain on the front that contrasted with the boy's pale complexion, his jeans blue denim matching all of his other cronies and heavy noir chelsea boots. Then John analysed the boy's face, a face that looked like it had been scultped by angels, his cheekbones were prominant that had a slight shine to them and eyes that looked like clear sapphiers... that were staring directly back at John.

* * *

"Fuck," Lestrade cursed "If I had known _they_ were going to be here I would've bought my favourite sunglasses so they can have a better look to remember me by."

Anderson and Mick laughed then descended to the bar. Sherlock felt a pair of unfamiliar eyes burn through him. He soon found a mod staring at him strangely, different from all the other mod's deadly stares, Sherlock rolled his shoulders back that made his leather jacket squeak. Sherlock joined his friends that crowded around the bar. There was a obvious devision in the two groups. 

"If they keep staring any longer I think I might push my arse out for them to have a better look." Lestrade joked as he winked at the waitress who handed him a fresh beer. "You wanting anything Sherlock?"

Sherlock chose the bar stool that was directly adjacent from the booth full of mods so he could get a clear view of the mod in the Fred Perry polo. "None for me thanks Graham," Sherlock's eyes were still chained on the mod. 

Lestrade sighed "It's Greg, how many years have we been friends."

Sherlock didn't dare to answer instead he held eye contact with the youngest of the mods. Youngest as his posture is hunched over unlike the others but he looked the most responsible. Sherlock noted that.

* * *

"This is _our_ diner and they know it," Mike growled. "Why do they have to spoil everything!"

"As long as we keep our distance from each other there won't be a havoc, let's just carry on," David rolled his eyes as he gulped his beer.

John narrowed his eyes at the componant across the diner. He had been looking for a long time.

"John," Mike nudged him to attract his attention. John's eyes peeled off of the gang and focused on Mike. "I was saying how is it going with Sarah?" 

"Ah, great," John cleaned his throat, "She's lovely."

Mike's smile widened, "I knew it, no need to thank me brother, I know a perfect girl when I see her."

"Yet you can't find someone for yourself," John smirked which made other chuckle. Mike stiffened.

Then there was a howl of laughter coming across the diner. All the mods heads automatically turned to the goofs that clinked beers together. John found them disturbing and shot a scowl to them which made the tall brunette smile sinisterly. John could feel his blood boil already.

* * *

" _Look at me mum in me skinny jeans, shows off me lady-like legs,_ " Lestrade mocked the mods by stretching his legs aross the table. Sherlock started to chuckle at his friend who was now, more or less, ontop of the table. " _Oh Andy,_  I'd really like it if you could give me a bowl cut, I really want to fit in with ' _the crew_ '."

Sherlock's eyes cast over the group of angry looking mods. Oh this _was_ amusing. Sherlock found himself checking on the mod that gave him most interest, Sherlock swore he could see steam emitting from the boy's ears causing Sherlock to smirk. 

"Another pint doll," Mick winked to the waitress who obeyed him like a stray dog. Mick then slammed his palms against the wood of the table repeatedly, rileing up his mates causing a thunderous noise.

Sherlock tapped his boots agaisnt the checkered flooring in anticipation. Waiting for the right moment for one of them to crack.

"Let's touch bowl cuts and listen to The Who whilst we jack each other off," Anderson shouted loudly so the mods could hear the insult.

* * *

"That's it!" Mike Stamford bawled, "You bunch of dicks want to go."

John observed the alphas all stand up as if it was rehearsed, clearly they had done it more than once, and Lestrade fliping out a pocket knife that gleamed under the diner lights. All stood up except one. The brunette sat there leg crossed over one knee very masculine-like, slumpted back in the red leather with an amusing smirk playing at his lips. 

"Boys, not in here!" The owner of the diner shouted at the two gangs causing silence to fill the air. 

Lestrade gritted his teeth "Outside then if you're feeling so brave." Sherlock laughed breathily behind the wall of greasers. 

Mike 'tsk'ed "Come on boys, we're leaving." Mike opened the door.

"Oh that's right just let all your little pony boys follow out after you," Mick said sternly. 

Mike gave them a violent stare and John thought it was best to leave. John couldn't see the greaser at the table anymore which left him wondering.

Outside John stood against the diner wall as all his friends were walking down the road. John held back for a moment before taking a step in their direction when he was stopped by a low grainy voice. 

"You're not actually going to follow them like a lost puppy are you?" 

John turned around to see the greaser, from ealier who made an unnoticed exit, leaning against the brick wall with one leg bent. John felt a shiver run down his spine adn not in a good way. "Don't come anywhere near me," John said in a threatening voice.

"Oh relax I'm not going to hurt you," the taller boy said, "and it looks like you wont hurt me too judging by your staring earlier on." He smirked.

"I wasn't staring, I was observing," John corrected him.

The boys smirk grew "Really, what did you observe about me?"

John gulped as he felt intimidated, the greaser pushed himself off of the wall and took few steps towards John. The lad towered above him. "I uh," John stuttered, "I could see."

"Observe," The greaser interrupted.

"Yes... Observe, that you're not like your other friends."

"Oh good," The brunette hummed.

"You're new yet the new alpha of the pack, all the other boys follow you around, looking up to you to see if they have done you proud."

The boy took a step closer to John so he was inches away from him "Go on," he purred. 

John felt the words stick in his throat, he couldnt speak, the strangers features where perfectly highlighted under the moonlight.

"John are you coming or what!" Mike shouted back. Thankfully he couldn't see John and the greaser due to the thick middnight sky.

John looked back at the boy and noticed the space between them was dangerously tight.

The greasers brow cocked up, "Another time."

John could hear the silk in the boys voice, the words he spoke seemed like a suggestion that John didn't know the answer to. Before anything else was said the lad clinked his boots against the stone pavement and vanished into the distance.

John let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. 

He didn't think that would be the last he saw of the greaser either.


	2. Dingleberries on parade.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greasers just being greasers and a whole lot of Johnlock flirting:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They have a conversation and Sherlock is hot af

Sherlock woke up with a groggy groan and heaved himself out of his tatty bed. He loathed awakening at 8am for school, especially because he couldn't handle such idiocy at such an early time. As Sherlock was swaying towards his living room, he noticed the same cup of tea he was greeted with every morning ready for him, Mrs Hudson lingered by the flat door.

"Good morning Sherlock," Mrs Hudson, Sherlock's landlady chirped.

"Morning."

"You look rough, were you out last night?"

Sherlock gave Mrs Hudson a roll of his eyes. It was too early for tedious questions. 

"I wasn't drinking, I was just out late," Sherlock paused, "Hope I didn't wake you."

Mrs Hudson had moved to Sherlock's mantle piece and started automatically dusing over his biology books and binning a couple of scrunched up ciagrette packets that were hollow. "You didn't wake me at all dear." Sherlock could hear the disapproval in her voice because of her finding three empty cigarette packets scattered across the surface. "Oh, Sherlock," Mrs Husdon said with a great amount of sympathy, "How many packets have you had this week?"

"Just finished my third packet last night."

"But It's only Wednesday."

Sherlock smiled to himself. Mrs Hudson was one of the few people in Sherlock's life that he actually respected or for that matter had time for, Sherlock might even consider her being one of his soft spots, anyone who dared do wrong to her; faced the consequences of his pocket knife.

"You really do need to stop, you know how I don't-"

"Yes, yes I know," Sherlock launched out of his leather chair "Save your breath." Sherlock reached for his leather jacket and popped the collar up, "I'm going to head to school now."

"Be careful on that bike Sherlock!"

Sherlock grinned as he scurried down the stairs to the ground floor. 

***

"The man, the myth, the legend!" Lestrade shouted as Sherlock made his appearance in the parking lot. 

Sherlock walked over to his fellow friends. Standing there: Lestrade, Anderson, Mick and Ronnie. 

They all entered the high school, the bell had rippled through the atmosphere signalling them classes have begun but like all greasers they rebelled against the rules, the pack of leather demons continued to stroll through the corridors.

"Fuck, you've got to be kidding me," Ronnie said as his eyes scanned over his report card, "I've flunked every class."

"Oh look Anderson, you've finally found someone thicker than you," Mick joked causing everyone to laugh but Anderson. 

"Yeah, least I don't spend most of my days cleaning grease off the fryer," Anderson retaliated.

Mick shrieked, "One time!" 

Everybody laughed.

"What have you got Holmes?" Lestrade asked nodding towards the empty cigarette packet in his leather jacket.

Sherlock answered, "Piss all, I've got none left."

"Here," Lestrade handed Sherlock a cigarette.

Sherlock looked at the stick funny before accepting the gift, "Is it my birthday?" Sherlock then recieved a lighter off of his friend and added with raised brows "It really must be my birthday."

Lestrade chuckled, "I'm going to get more after school, you fancy joining me and the lads?"

The light flickered until the tip of the cigarette was glowing. Sherlock puffed "I'll see."

The greasers continued to not turn up to class, which was a disadvatage for the other boys; not Sherlock. Sherlock was too smart for the school and all the teachers knew it. 

"I hear Danny is having a party this weekend," Mick said as he scraped the sides of his hair back with a metal comb looking in the scratched mirror in his locker.

Anderson sighed, "And no doubt the mods will be there."

Sherlock's ears pinned up at the word. He wondered if the blonde mod would make an appearance. Sherlock took another long drag of the cigarette, the smoke filling the air above him.

"Fuck 'em," Mick cussed.

"We're going." Sherlock grumbled.

All the boys' eyes were on him. "Well what says goes boss," Ronnie shrugged as he suddenly tipped Anderson's books out of his hands for a laugh. Sherlock stood there observing the two loons.

"You little twat!" Anderson started chasing Ronnie down the corridor, their boots sliding across the newly polished floor, when Ronnie immediately stopped. Anderson didn't take notice of the sudden action and continued flying past his friend who had haulted which resulted in the Anderson flying into Mrs Smallwood: The school's head teacher.

"Philip," Mrs Smallwood sighed, "Shouldn't you be in class."

"Yes ma'am, no ma'am."

"Well, make your mind up which is it boy?"

"Yes I should ma'am."

Sherlock couldn't help but splutter out his laugh at how stupid Anderson could be to get caught. Sherlock quickly stubbed out his cigarette as Mrs Smallwood was making her way over to the group of delinquents. Sherlock huffed out the last of the smoke that filled his lungs behind him trying to cover the fact that he was smoking indoors.

Her face wasn't best pleased. Lestrade smiled trying to charm the woman, "Mrs-"

"Don't _Mrs_ me Lestrade, I'm not in the mood. Now you'd think since this is Wednesday you'd all be in class, _working_."

"I bet that's disappointing," Mick mumbled sarcastically.

"Perhaps you'd like to spend the rest of the day in my office Mick."

Mick tutted, clicked his heels on the floor and turned up his leather collar not giving the teacher an answer.

"That's what I thought," Mrs Smallwood glared at the boys, "Now get to class!"

***

The greasers were sitting ontop of the bleachers. Noone ever sat near them because they were too _bad._ Anderson had a half eaten baguette in his grip, swinging it infront of Ronnie to taunt him. "You want some?"

Ronnie nodded.

"Suck my dick then lover boy," Anderson chuckled.

"Will you two grow up!" Lestrade shouted as he and Sherlock lit another cigarette. The two done as they were told. Right after something caught their attention, the rugby players spilling out onto the pitch. All the greasers started to laugh at their warm up routine. Lestrade howled as he hit Mick's shoulder to grab his attention, "Hey look, dingleberries on parade."

"Too bad their brains are in their biceps," Mick chimed in with the torment. 

Sherlock's laughter was deep and there was wrinkles forming around his crystal eyes because of how big his smile was. He looked down and to Sherlock's surprise he spotted the blonde mod jogging out to take his place on the pitch. Sherlock's gaze stayed on the boy for longer. His rugby clothes were as tight as his mod clothes only this time Sherlock could see as the light higlighted his figure. Sherlock hummed at the sight of John's round arse-

"Want to go for they cigarettes now?" Lestrade interupted his train of thought. 

Sherlock smirked, "You go ahead, I've got something else I've got to take care of."

* * *

"Great game today Watson, you're on top form." Coach Sholto praised.

John smiled back produly, "I can only do my best sir." John turned into the changing room to subsitiute his rugby uniform for a blue paisley shirt and white skinny jeans. A quick spray of some expensive cologne, he then slung his bag over his shoulder and left.

John sighed as he walked towards the gate past the car park when he heard the sound of metal clinking. "You never gave me the rest of your observation."

John turned on his heels to find the boy last night at the diner. "Do we have to do this now?"

"You really don't, if you _can't_ , I understand, you all can't be as good as me."

John frowned, "What."

"I said, you all can't be as good as me, you don't have anything else to say... I completely understand," Sherlock was provoking John. John tightened his fists.

"I _can_ greaser."

Sherlock approached John, stopping infront of him, " _Do me_ then."

The words seemed threatening although Sherlock might've not inteneded them to. John's eyes flickered from the greaser's eyes to lips and then back again, his throat was dry and his palms were sweating. Never has a greaser intimidated John before.

Sherlock identified the absence of speech so decided to break it, "No?" Sherlock paused, "Ok, my turn." Sherlock could hear John's audible gulp, "You come from a working class background and still live with them, infact you just texted your mother to say you're on your way home now from school. Your father is an ex-military soldier and has turned himself to drink to cope with the poverty as an army pention isn't _that_ beneficial and the stress of finding a new job, possibly his wife is also distraught due to the amount of times you call and text her to check if she is okay, leading your father into being an agressive drunk. Conclusion that is why you hang about with your _idiotic_ friends so much because you can't stand the sight of him, you have nothing better to do and studying for biology... because you want to get into med school in a years time... in a house full of shouting, arguing and violence won't solve what is hidden deep down inside you."

"Deep down inside me?"

"Guilt," Sherlock simply answered, "You feel like it's your responsibility to glue this family back together, go to med school and take care of your mother becuase after all how can you ever repay the things she's done for you, I did wonder where you got that new jacket." Sherlock popped the letter 't' at the end of 'jacket' and raised his brow.

John looked down at himself, he bought a new jacket yesterday.

"But something is holding you back... A sibling I presume? More likely a male role as you've clearly took a more feminine apporach," Sherlock rolled his eyes as he was making a joke about what John was wearing. "I mean seriously white jeans?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Shut up, just... shut up." John mumbled. Sherlock's mouth remained closed. "How did you?"

"I obersved, _Watson_." Sherlock slowly descended towards his parked bike, John's name sounded so pure on his tongue, Sherlock swung one leg over the motor and mounted it. John's brows furrowed in confusion. Then Sherlock snapped John out of his transifxion with him, "You getting on?"

"On what?"

"My chopper." Sherlock motioned to the motorcycle he was sat upon.

John cleared his throat and looked around to see if there was anyone watching. "I'd rather get pummled than get on a bike with you."

Sherlock shrugged, "Well, suit yourself... The rain should be coming on in a bit," they both looked up above to the dark clowds that hovered above them, "I couldn't help notice but your new jacket comes without a hood which will lead to your hair getting wet which _then_ will spoil your date for tonight. Considering the amount of abuse at home you wouldn't have enough time to get ready for the date."

John noticed the devilish smirk, "You're one bastard." John hopped on behind Sherlock.

"Comfy darlin'?" Sherlock joked.

"Just drive."

***

As soon as the bike came to an end John staggered off immediately, "Fucking hell, were you trying to get us killed!" he shrieked. 

"It was fun," Sherlock said in his defence.

"No, that- that was dangerous."

Sherlock got off his motor and leaned against the beast, "It's called living."

"Well you won't be for long if you keep riding like that," John was out of breath, "And how loud it is!" John covered his ears, complaining.

"You cannot resist a bit of the dramatic," Sherlock chuckled to himself. 

"I don't even know how you can still hear me, I can hardly make you out." John replied bluntly, in response to Sherlock's comment about John being dramatic, "Thank god mines doesn't attract much attention with that noise."

Sherlock's head snapped up in interest, "You've got a ride?"

John stood up straight, "Yes I have."

" _Can I see_?" Sherlock asked with puppy dog eyes and a large pout, clearly taking the piss. If John was caught with this greaser in his back garden he would more than likely be set top of the list for most wanted by the mods. John hesitated but looked at the boy infront of him who had now lost his cocky smirk and gained a genuine look of interest. _I'm going to get killed_ he thought.

"Fine," John huffed coming to an agreement with himself, "But we need to be quick."

Sherlock followed John into John's back garden. They both hurdled the fence and ducked past the window that John's father would - more than likely - be on the couch lounging. There was a little garage and John opened the door revealing a small scooter.

Sherlock burst out with laughter. 

John's face fell as he looked up at the taller boy who couldn't contain himself.

"Fucking hell John," Sherlock chuckled, "You call that a ride? After you've just went on mine, I'm disappointed to say the least." Sherlock nearly had tears in his eyes.

"Look if you're going to take the piss you can leave now." John sauntered over to his scooter. 

Sherlock shook his head, "No, no mod. I'll stop, really." 

"It's a Lambretta TV200 customised, I added mirrors and spray painted it white and red."

"You do like your white." Sherlock said smugly.

"My uncle helped me out with the costs."

"That's what I dont like about these things," Sherlock nearly spat out the words, "They're just a fashion theres no point of having them, they drive too slow for transpotation and you look like a right knob ontop of one."

John was not pleased at his friends remark, was he even John's friend? John never craved another degrading opinion, he got enough of that from his father. John shrugged off the greasers comment, he didn't like to well on touchy things. "Unfortunatley I barely take it out-"

"Your father won't let you take it out because he doesn't approve of the whole 'Mod' thing." Sherlock included. Sherlock could get from John's hunched over posture that it was a subject John didn't like to talk about.

"Now you're just showing off," John smirked causing Sherlock to mirror the expression. John sighed "The lambretta is fucked, I need to get it repair but money right now is-"

"I know a great repair shop!" Sherlock grinned. "It's called Rob's motors, He can get it fixed for you within a day and at a cheap price too."

John thought about it, "I dont know..."

"Trust me on this one, he's the best."

"Trust you? A rocker," Now it was John's turn to laugh and Sherlock's to scowl. After an awkward moment of silence transfered between the two boys John said, "Okay, I'll drop it off tomorrow."

"Perfect." Sherlock smiled sweetly which made John's heart warm. "I should go I said to Lestrade that I'd meet them for a game of bowling." Sherlock suddenly jumped the fence, they were inches apart with only a fence between them. "Here, have this." Sherlock handed John his metal clipper through the gap in the wood.

John looked at the object confusingly, "I dont smoke."

" _I know,_ " Sherlock replied in a deep and sexy voice. Smooth as velvet. Then he vanished. John looked down at the clipper and noticed the greasers phone number was left on it under the name ' _Sherlock_ '.

John couldn't help but smile to himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there is alot of swearing lmaFo... oops


	3. A drink?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post a chapter mainly on a conversation to build up their friendship and make the bond stronger. Also maybe some feelings???????????

After school John decided to finally give in and take his lambretta to Sherlock's strong recommendation. After wasted time trying to find the correct address, John located the garage and pushed his scooter up with great strength - perks of being a rugby player. John's nerves got the better of him as he observed the heavy bikes and various greaser car parts that surrounded the garage. 'Of course Sherlock invited him to a greaser's repair shop, _the bastard_ ' John thought. He also considered escaping now to prevent him from getting stabbed by a greaser because he had _clearly_ mistaken where to take his lambretta. John decided to turn back around when he heard a clatter of tools fall to the ground causing an unpleasant ringing in John's ears. "Hello?" John asked hesitantly, "I'm here to see if you can fix my bike."

"Yeah two minutes lad." The voice came from underneath a crimson 1949 Chevrolet car. The voice seemed familiar, yet John couldn't put a face to it until the slim figure rolled out from under the car on a board, "Oh hey John."

"Sherlock!" John squeaked.

Sherlock smirked and got up off of the sliding board. John's mouth opened at the sight of the greaser: His curly fringe was tossed but the sides were still slicked back, he had a black grease mark hugging his left cheekbone, he was wearing nothing but a white vest, that was heavily stained by oil, which showed Sherlock's arm muscles and a hint of toning in his abdomen - Sherlock wasn't as built as John, his figure was more slim but his muscles were on show - and a pair of deep blue denim jeans that had been slashed a few times. John was speechless at the sight in front of him. 

"So do you want me to take a look at your ride Johnny." Sherlock brushed past John. Sherlock crouched on his knees and examined the scooter by running his long finger tips over the paintwork. 

John sighed, "My names John, Sherlock, not Johnny."

Sherlock's icy blue eyes looked at John who was now the one towering over him, "Johnny suits you better."

"It sound's like a dirty greaser name."

"Precisely," Sherlock simply answered, "It's not proper mod like, John."

"Well may I remind you I'm not a greaser," John said bitterly. The comment caused Sherlock to hold eye contact with the Mod, Sherlock's eyes were filled with something John couldn't label. That's what the problem was, they were polar opposites at the end of the day and if they got caught together they'd be dead. 

"Your oil pump is damaged, severely, due to the lack of oil you actually put in it," Sherlock tutted, "But don’t worry I should get it fixed in no time." The greaser stood up straight and sauntered back to the table, next to the car, where various tools were spread across the surface and a glass bottle of cola sat innocently. 

"So this is your place?" John swung back on his heels and crossed his arms.

Sherlock hummed, 'mhm', "Well not exactly I wasn't lying when I say Rob's repairs, He's my boss but I do most of the work."

"That's why you weren't at school today." John said aloud. 

Sherlock looked at the boy with a smug look. "You were looking for me."

"Nope. No. Sherlock. I did not once say that." 

Sherlock grinned whilst picking up his cola bottle, "Look if you please." He then started to gulp down the juice causing his adams apple to sway erratically. John wanted to look away but couldn't bring himself to do so.

John cleared his throat loudly, "So how much will this cost?"

Sherlock settled the bottle down, "Oh nothing... just... consider it my treat."

"Sherlock..." said John.

"Look it's my decision and what says goes." Sherlock said coldly.

John's lips formed a line. He could tell from Sherlock's attitude that he always gets what he wants. 

"Why are you complaining anyway, you're getting this for free." 

John sighed, "Well at least let me buy you a drink."

Sherlock's head perked up, he couldn't believe what had just escaped John's mouth. 

"As a thank you, not mate intended _or_ date intended," John suddenly got flustered.

"I know what you mean."

"Good."

"Yes."

John tried to hide his smile at the fact Sherlock accepted the invite. 

"If I hadn't had your bike to work on I'd say we should've gone now before it gets dark."

"You would've skipped work?" John asked in astonishment but he should expect nothing more from a greaser.

Sherlock's lips curled up mischievously into a smile, "Me and Rob are close, I mean... he doesn't like me leaving early but he wouldn't fire me from the job, I saved him from a court case."

"How did you?" John asked amused.

Sherlock thought for a moment before smirking, "I'll tell you over that drink." Sherlock threw the stained cloth he was holding onto the desk before tidying the surface.

John was confused, "What! You're leaving now?" 

Sherlock shrugged, "Yeah, why not." 

John stood there amazed that the boy never had a worrying thought. The next moment, before John could gather his thoughts about the sudden arrangement, Sherlock stretched taking his white vest top off revealing his upper half body. His skin was admirably pale and John noted the strong V line poking out from the waistband of his jeans. John also caught sight of a few scars located at his abdomen and one along his prominent collar bone, John just wanted to caress the scars in hope that they would heal. John's eyes were glued to his lean figure and strangely felt his skinny white jeans tightening.

"My eyes are up here," Sherlock said innocently, startling John, Sherlock slipped on a clean white t-shirt covering the exposed skin.

"I know, I..." John stuttered, "I couldn't help but notice those scars, they seem pretty-"

"Dull and ugly." Sherlock finished the sentence. 

"Ugly?" John questioned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, clearly wanting to avoid conversation, "Let's go." He shoved his cigarette packet in his leather jacket and locked the garage up.

***

John directed Sherlock to an unknown pub where there was less likely to be anyone they know in there. John and Sherlock sat in a booth that was dark so their faces weren't noticeable. "So how did you get Rob off a court case?"

Sherlock sighed heavily, he couldn't lie, "He stole a car."

John's face scrunched up, "How'd you get him outta that?"

"I convinced the police that he was in a different country."

"How!" John exclaimed, "You know what I'm not even going to ask."

"No please _do_." Sherlock's cat-like smile gleamed. Their gaze intense. Just as John was going to ask a leggy waitress came over with a tray consisting of two beers and a two burgers.

The waiter started shaking when she saw the two polar opposites in her bar. "Oh, there's not going to be a rumble is there?" She asked hesitantly.

John and Sherlock exchanged strange glances, "No, we're in here for a friendly beer."

Now it was the waiters expression that changed from being slightly concerned to ultimate surprise. "Well, here you go boys. It's so nice to see people who normally don't hang around with each other come to civil terms."

John and Sherlock blushed slightly, lowering their heads in the dimmed part of the booth. "Thanks."

The waitress soon disappeared. "You were checking her out," John stated though it seemed more like an accusation. 

"Indeed I was not." Sherlock spat at he grabbed the alcohol and started suckling on the glass tip.

John spluttered a laugh, "So you have a girlfriend then?"

"Nope, not really my thing."

John choked on his beer and quickly apologised as he muttered, "Boyfriend?"

Sherlock shot John an icy stare that could cut John in half. 

"It's obviously okay if you do, I'm not trying to embarrass you."

"I know it's okay John, Not really my thing as in nothing's really my thing, I'm not interested in any relationships unlike the rest of my friends." Sherlock seemed offended.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"It's not that, it's just everyone sees me like that type of person because of the people I hang about with. Yes I am a greaser and yes I do _occasionally_ break the law but don't intertwine me with their idiotic actions. I'm my own person, I made me." Sherlock gulped the beer from the bottle he was gripping onto.

John's tongue rolled over his bottom lip. Sherlock's grumble at the end of his sentence made John's stomach flip with interest. "Right okay, just like me then."

Sherlock's brows knitted together, "Like you?"

"I don't get attached either."

Sherlock sniggered, "That's definitely a lie."

John's lips formed a straight line. 

"I know that you and Sarah are dating."

"Dating doesn't come anywhere near what me and Sarah are. We're just friends."

"A friend that you wouldn't mind shagging." Sherlock stated cockily. The word leaving a vulgar taste on his lips.

"Do you ever stop?" John asked bluntly.

Sherlock smiled devilishly, "No."

John's corner of his mouth kinked, "So are you going to Danny's party this weekend."

Sherlock nodded before returning the question and picking apart his burger.

"I'll see you there, all the mods are going so... I don't want to ruin this for Danny by a misunderstanding between our two groups."

"Aw you're cute you know that," Sherlock mocked, "Looking out for your _friends_."

"And how do you look out for your friends?" John became snappy, "Bail them out of jail."

Sherlock forced a laugh that was short. Silence between the two boys settled. "Usually they're the ones who bail me out."

John sudenly seen regret wash over Sherlocks eyes. "You're in there a lot I take it."

"It's practically my second home." Sherlock slid out a cigarette out of its packet and lit the tip until it highlighted the structure of John's face in front of him. He inhaled and John's breath hitched at how mysterious it made Sherlock look.

"Nothing you should be proud of mate." John mumbled, digging into his burger.

"I'm not proud. It's my lifestyle. I'm used to it. Unlike you, _Mummy's boy,_ because you're definitely not a _Daddy's boy._ "

John's eyes narrowed, "Family is my priority, don't speak to me like that."

"Family," Sherlock tutted as he flicked excess ash, "even the word makes me sick."

"You don't speak to your family I take it."

"No, quite the opposite, _they don't speak to me_." Sherlock inhaled more smoke. 

"I wonder why," John studied the greaser in front of him. "Probably sick of all the leather jackets and hair gel." John sniggered making Sherlock laugh genuinely. 

John's phone suddenly started ringing violently in his pocket. He retrieved the mobile and noticed that Mike was calling him. "Hello?" John answered, "Is it urgent?"

Sherlock hid his smile behind the lit stick at how pissed off John was that they were interrupted. 

"Yeah, I'm with..." John looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, "Harry." was the first person to spring to his mind. "I'll see you tomorrow Mike... my lambretta is getting fixed and then we'll do whatever, okay... yeah... bye mate, bye." John hung up.

"Harry? Your brother that I mentioned earlier?"

"Sister." John corrected Sherlock.

"Fuck!" Sherlock exclaimed, "There's always something, always, _always_ something!" 

"In fairness you were right about everything else." John admitted.

"Oh _goody_ ," Sherlock grinned as he bit into his burger like an animal.

"You know for such a lean boy you eat like a pig."

Sherlock spoke with a mouthful "I love it when you talk dirty."

John's lips twitched with thrill, if that wasn't flirting John didn't know what it was. The waitress appeared again lifting the empty bottles, her hazel glistening eyes never leaving Sherlock. John noticed her red lips pouting whenever Sherlock gave her attention. John felt jealousy twang in his gut.

"Thanks doll," Sherlock's voice like silk, "I might just even leave you a tip." John observed the wink Sherlock shot at the lady and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The girl giggled and her cheeks flushed crimson that matched the shade of red on her lips, soon she had gone again.

"She likes you." John's voice was gritty.

"Human error."

John looked at him blankly, "You just flirted with her, made her think that you were actually interested, all for what? To get her hopes up just for a free meal."

"Maybe _I am_ interested," Sherlock stubbed out his cigarette, "Does that bother you Watson?"

John leaned back in his seat, "Not in the slightest." His fingers twitched with envy. "You're a big boy, you can do what you want although if I do recall a couple of minutes ago you said you didn't get attached."

"Flirting doesn't necessarily mean attached John and flattery gets you no where unless it's coming from me." Sherlock was talking high and mighty.

"Show me then, lets see what you do that makes you so important." John challenged.

"Maybe you can pick a few pointers from me," Sherlock sniggered making John's face fall. "Okay..." Sherlock popped the collar of his leather jacket, "That hair suits you."

"Na, no, I know you're being sarcastic about that Sherlock." John wriggled his finger dismissively. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed, "Fine, was worth a try." Both the boys' laughter intertwined beautifully echoing a sweet melody around the booth.   
Sherlock's posture now seemed natural and more real. "I do like your eyes however, I feel like whenever I'm with you they lure me in automatically. The most intriguing shades of blue I've seen with hints of green. I like looking at you in the organic light because that's when the green shows most."

John felt like his heart was being softened by Sherlock's words and his palms beginning to heat up. John was a little more than just taken back.

"How'd I do that time?" Sherlock's eyes twinkled. 

"You really had me there," John laughed nervously scratching the back of his head.

Sherlock smiled shyly, "Maybe I was telling the truth." 

John lowered his head and coughed slightly suddenly feeling _filthy_. John knows this isn't acceptable, even being sat next to a greaser, never mind flirting with a boy. There was no doubt John wouldn't deny Sherlock was attractive with his high cheekbones and leather collar tugged upwards but the reality is that flirting wouldn't be socially acceptable. John's father would beat him to a pulp, his friends would disown him... all for a bloody greaser that he barely knows. John's fear got the better of him and he couldn't bring himself to reply back. He felt ashamed. He felt ashamed that _he enjoyed_ it. "Look, Sherlock, maybe this wasn't a good idea. I'm going to go."

Sherlock's face frowned not understanding the situation properly. "You're going to leave because I said a few silly words." Sherlock stared at John with confusion.

But John knew they weren't silly to Sherlock. The truth in Sherlock's eyes made John believe that there was a spark and for a second he wanted to believe there was. "No," John cleared his throat before continuing, "No, it's not that Sherlock..." John lied. "If we get caught fuck knows what'll happen but I can assure you that it won't end well. I'm sorry for this. Whatever this... was." John left.

Sherlock sat there frozen, he couldn't let John walk out on him. This scared Sherlock. Sherlock considered that he was coming onto John strongly and what if the little mod spreads rumours. Sherlock huffed and abruptly got out of the booth to catch him.

John's hands weren't steady. The air was nipping at his skin violently, the wind pushing against John's chest making it hard for him to breathe, everything inside John's head was an on growing light; flames burning his thought process until a familiar hand grabbed onto his upper arm spinning around.

"John, don't walk away." said Sherlock.

John snatched himself away from Sherlock's grip, "Get off me, leave me alone Sherlock." John continued to walk in the opposite direction.

"John," Sherlock called, "At least let me give you a lift home, I'm not letting you walk alone at this time of night."

John stopped walking. He started shivering but he didn't know if it was the temperature or the coldness of Sherlock's voice. John turned on his heels and caved into Sherlock's offer which he knew he was going to soon regret. They walked back to Sherlock's bike in silence, the sound audible was Sherlock's biker boots against the stone pavement. John's shivering increased and Sherlock noticed.

"Here," Sherlock ripped his leather jacket off of his lean body. The greasers t shirt was tight against his abdomen showing slight hints of Sherlock's muscles tensing. Sherlock pushed the jacket into John forcefully, insisting on him to recieve it. John never reacted. "Take it." Sherlock said emphatically. John hesitantly took the clothing and wrapped himself in the leather, suddenly warmth flooded John's system and the scent of Sherlock cascaded his nose. John muttered a 'thank you' before sitting behind Sherlock on the motor. 

"What about you, aren't you cold?" John asked.

Sherlock sniggered and started to drive John home.  
***  
The bike rattled until Sherlock turned off the engine. John didn't want to move, his chest was pressed against the thin material of Sherlock's shirt, John could feel Sherlock's pace of his breathing and it quickly gained speed. "You can get off you know." Sherlock smirked, breaking the barrier of no conversation. 

' _The bastard_ ' John thought, his feet hitting the rubble. John never felt so cold in his life. "Thanks," John handed Sherlock back his leather jacket.

"No you keep it," Sherlock insisted.

John declined, "What would I do with leather." John's smug smile made Sherlock's grin bright. "Plus, it looks better on you." John mumbled.

Sherlock's face softened and he looked up at John through his long lashes,  "Can I see you again?" Sherlock's eyes full of hope.

It broke John inside at how gentle his voice was and the fact that Sherlock actually had to ask permission to see John. It couldn't continue as much as John would like it to, he was scared himself at how warm he felt around Sherlock. It wasn't normal. John displayed an apologetic smile before sauntering up his drive.

Sherlock sat alone on his bike as he watched John entering his home. All Sherlock could think of was John's chest pressed against his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're just babies, protect them


	4. I seen you with another and I don't like to admit it but my heart ripped into two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sherlock:(

Sherlock arrived at school the next day, late for biology, with a banging headache that soared through him like an avalanche. When Sherlock entered the room he was greeted with a big smile beaming from Lestrade, "Hey Shelock, me an' the boys thought you wouldn't make it today... I heard you were out last night." Lestrade playfully nudged Sherlock in the shoulder to which Sherlock narrowed his eyes at.

"One, don't ever do that to me again," Sherlock said coldly. Lestrade gulped. "And two, how'd you know I was out last night?"

"Well I popped around to your flat and you weren't in," said Lestrade, "And Mrs Hudson said you had gone out."

Sherlock's tense shoulders came at ease. "Well mind your own business Lestrade," Sherlock humphed down in the seat next to his friend. Lestrade was the only friend Sherlock could confide in and even at that Sherlock found it difficult to tell him about his meeting with John last night. Sherlock soon knew that this secret would eat him up until he could not bare it any longer which could result in Sherlock having no-one. He didn't want to go back to that.

"Anderson and Sally have became official," Lestrade made conversation as he flicked through a biology textbook. 

Sherlock scoffed, "We all saw that coming. Look at them!" he exclaimed, "He's all over her like a puppy." The vision of Anderson leaping all over Sally, smothering her with kisses, made Sherlock's stomach churn. 

"Right, you two settle down!" The teacher boomed. Anderson peeled off Sally imediatley causing Sherlock and Lestrade to howl with laughter, Anderson shot them a dirty look in response. When the lesson started Sherlock's eyes couldn't help but wonder to John's seat which, to Sherlock's surprise, was empty. Sherlock wondered where John was, John never missed days off he was a square!

The next couple of days increased Sherlock's concern. John had not made an appearance for three days and Sherlock blamed himself. There were different scenarios circulating Sherlock's mind palace but he couldn't find any answers to any of them. He thought about turning up to John's home to pay him a visit but he soon figured John's dad wouldn't be too happy at the friendly gesture. Sherlock left the situation even though he couldn't brush it under his belt completely. Sherlock felt like he had lost a limb and the days at school dragged on. 

***

_U coming to Danny's party 2night? - GL_

_For the 100th time, yes. - SH_

_Ok, well me and the lads are outside. Come out when u're done fixing ur hair lol - GL_

Sherlock flung the mobile onto his unmade bed. Sherlock stared at himself in the mirror of his wardrobe as he repeatedly tugged his shirt collar and run his hand down his front to smooth out the creases present. Sherlock's fingertips brushed the sides of his gelled hair and he sighed. Sherlock honestly thought John would've texted him by now, the notifications on his phone were annoying because it was every other person _but_ John. Sherlock secretly hoped his mod would show up tonight.

Sherlock shimmied into his leather jacket and rushed downstairs.

"Oh you going out dear?" Mrs Hudson asked as she was dusting the banister of the stairs. 

"Yes Mrs Hudson, I shouldn't be too late, if you hear the door it'll be me."

Mrs Hudson smirked, "Remember I don't want to be waking up to some doll in your bed Sherlock."

That comment gave Sherlock a chuckle and made him slightly uncomfortable that Mrs Hudson assumed a female but it was the only acceptable option. He bid his goodbye as he clipped his boots all the way to Lestrades car. Anderson, Mick and Ronnie were sitting ontop of the back red leather seats in Lestrade's noir chevrolet impala. The interior design was impressive for Lestrade. The three loons were mucking about, singing and swaying with beers clenched in their hands. "Hey, look who it is, the mystery man of 'em all!" Ronnie routed.

"Will you keep it down!" Lestrade growled as Sherlock, with a huge grin plastered on his face, hopped over the car door and into the passenger seat smoothly. Sherlock's action gained wolf whistles from the guys in the back. Lestrade sniggered directly at Sherlock, "Show off." Lestrade's next destination was Danny's.

After ten minutes from Sherlock's house the greasers finally made it to Danny's... An hour late.

"You do know the party starts at 8," Mick patted Lestrade on the shoulder. 

Lestrade rolled his shoulders back, Mick's trembling hands soon got the message. "Yeah, but thanks to Mr Slick here," Lestrade widened his eyes at Sherlock who looked never looked more innocent, "We're late."

"Fashionably late," Sherlock corrected Lestrade with a huge grin that spread from ear to ear. 

"Thadda boy!" Anderson cheered as he leaped out of Lestrade's impala. Ronnie and Mick started the wolf howls like they were a pack announcing their arrival.

Sherlock smiled at Lestrade as they were the only ones left in the car. Lestrade said, "Thanks for coming along Sherl, I know you don't do this sorta thing."

"Oh shut up Lestrade, you don't think I'm actually doing this for you, do you?" Sherlock said smugly. Lestrade's face dropped and then he finally got a mocking impression from Sherlock to which he replied to with a chuckle. Lestrade slammed his car door and started walking to Danny's front porch that was flooded with drunk teenagers. Little did Lestrade know, Sherlock wasn't telling the truth.

As Sherlock stepped foot into the house the music pounded his ear drums. He was too sober for this. Sherlock was finally brought back to his senses when Ronnie tapped him towards the drinks table. Sherlock declined a beer making up some excuse about Mrs Hudson. Ronnie shurgged and replied, "Well I guess I'll have it, if you insist." Sherlock watched in amazement at how fast Ronnie swallowed the poison. 

"Thinking about picking a bird tonight Sherlock?" Mick questioned, sipping his bottle.

Sherlock winced at his question. "Na mate, I'd rather go home tonight without an STI." 

Mick spat out his drink and started to roar with laughter. 

"That Irene Adler chick looks alright," Ronnie bit his bottom lip as his eyes wondered up and down her leather clad body. Ronnie's sudden interest made Sherlock look. The girl was tall, all in black leather, her boots increased her height. Irene's hair was curled effortlessly and her flawless face was soft. The red lips were what Sherlock noticed most, the alarming shade of red contrasted with the black. She was beautiful but she was lacking what Sherlock was searching for.

Sherlock hummed, not replying to Ronnie's remark. Ronnie was practically drolling over her. "Hey, Sherlock, she's looking right at you." Said Ronnie. The tone of his voice matched Sherlock's reaction: Pitchy. Indeed she was, her pupils dilated when their eyes made contact. Sherlock was the first one to break the tension. At the right moment a figure appeared infront of Sherlock.

"Danny!" Sherlock chipped, trying to sound delighted that he had met him. 

"Sherlock, I really didn't expect to see you here. True what they say, expect the unexpected." 

Sherlock faked a smile.

Danny was neither a mod or a greaser. He was an inbetweener, he keeped the peace between the two opposites which Sherlock found suspicious. "Just help yourself to drinks Lads, they're on the house." Danny pointed to the creates of various beers stacked ontop of each other. Sherlock could tell he got this amount of alcohol from his uncle due to the wrinkles on his forehead. The wrinkles on his forehead symbolise stress. Stress that the party wouldn't work out and Danny; not having enough alcohol to supply the whole school with; then leads to Danny's panic. The panic settled when his _fairy godmother_ came to the resque with crates of beer imported from around the world. Conclusion his uncle works for a beer factory and these bottles are cheap due to the decoration of the lables not to mention they have a strong stench. The one Ronnie was holding was imported from Tennessee. Conclusion, it was his uncle because judging by the state of the house, it is spotless- Danny's parents are away for the weekend - There are no family pictures with the uncle so that puts the uncle in a mutual realtionship with the family, Danny isn't close with his uncle as his uncle despises how posh his father lives due to middle class life.

"Tell me how is your uncle doing in that beer factory?" Sherlock simply asked. Danny's mouth hung open in astonishment.

"H-how did you know?" 

"The wrinkles on your forehead." Said Sherlock.

Danny immediatley covered his forehead, self-conscious. "Are they bad?" Danny worried. Ronnie and Mick shook their head in unison to make him feel better. "And you Sherlock Holmes, how did you figure that out by the lines on my head?"

" _Expect the unexpected_." Sherlock winked. Danny's mouth formed into a straight line when all of a sudden there were cheers at the front door. Sherlock's attention focused on the mod's who had just walked in. 

Sherlock's heart stopped in thrill of seeing John standing with a bright grin. He looked smart dressed in those tight jeans and a navy checkered shirt that defined the boy's muscles. Sherlock could physically feel his heart throb under his plain white shirt. Sherlock's eyes glistened at the image infront and then the glisten in his eyes slowly faded. Sherlock's pounding heart seized and sunk to the pit of his stomach at the sight of John's arm around a girl. Sherlock wanted to scream in John's face but all that happened was his hands balling into tense fists.

"Listen I'm going to say hey to the mods, I'll see you around." Danny weaved through bodies to reach the new coming Mods. 

Sherlock couldn't tare his eyes away from John and the female. She looked innocent, her hair was in bunches and her baby pink skirt reached past her knees. She had a tight top on that outlined her breasts emphasising them. Sherlock felt jealousy flow through his veins at the thought John looked at her large breasts. "You know what Ronnie, I'll take that drink."

***

Sherlock's eyes were magnatised to John all night although he made sure he was in the shadows not wanting to draw attention. Sherlock had one beer after another but he never felt drunk, Sherlock could manage a drink unlike his greaser friends. Lestrade was hanging over Sherlock's shoulder all night, "Lestrade, it's clear the girl you've been eyeing up for the past hour wants you to go over to her." said Sherlock. Lestrade was oblivious to female interaction. 

Lestrade gulped the last of his beer, "You don't mind me going over?" 

"I insist," Sherlock smirked. He only wanted Lestrade to piss off and stop babysitting him. Sherlock finally could find time to meet with John when noone was watching. Lestrade sauntered off to the girl that Irene Adler was with. Sherlock's eyes locked onto hers which made Sherlock shiver uncomfortably. He decided to stumble towards the toilet upstairs, on the way he passed teens snogging each other and practically shagging up against Danny's hallway. Sherlock kept his head down and stuttered upstairs.

The line for the toilet was massive. Sherlock never had patience so that lead Sherlock taking a detour into a bedroom where the door creaked open. Sherlock tripped into the room to find a horde of mods and girls. John caught Sherlock's eye and John noticed the helpless greaser. Sherlock saw the shock in John's now widened eyes as he cried, "Sherlock!" John's arm unwrapped around the girl he was seen with earlier. Sherlock gulped.

"You know him Watson?" Mike asked disgustingly. 

John went silent and the girl next to John seemed confused. 

"Clearly I've got the wrong room." Sherlock said coldly before slamming the door behind him. He could feel the raw power of jealousy wash over his body and he stomped downstairs, the music drained the arnger in his steps. He stepped outside for fresh air and thankfully noone was around to witness Sherlock leaning against the wall. Sherlock wanted to punch out his jealousy but his knuckles couldn't bring themselves to make contact with the brick wall. Suddenly Sherlock heard a clatter of footsteps coming out the back door.

"There you are," John said, out of breath. "I looked everywhere for you."

"Obviously not hard enough," Sherlock rolled his eyes and maintained himself from looking weak.

"You seem pissed off," John stated.

Sherlock gave a short chuckle, "Pissed off? Me, pissed off?" Sherlock's voice increased. John remained quiet. "Three days John, three fucking days... After the drinks we had, you had my fucking number you could've called me or something." 

"Do you honestly think it would be acceptable to call you." John snapped.

Sherlock felt his heart crack. "Acceptable..." Sherlock said, making out the word to be revolting. 

John felt bad, "Sherlock that's not how I meant it to sound, you know yourself that this is wrong."

Sherlock couldn't retaliate because John was right. 

"Yeah, you're right." Sherlock tugged his leather collar upwards, "I'm sorry I even bothered." Sherlock's voice was grainy and drained. John stood there motionless as Sherlock brushed past the mod and went back inside. 

Sherlock never could understand the feeling of loss but right now he felt the loss of a friendship that wasn't meant to be. Sherlock found the closest friend to him he had, Lestrade, to pick up more beers to guzzle. Sherlock clearly knew John didn't feel the same or he would've at least tried to stop Sherlock from walking away but he didn't. Maybe, just maybe, Sherlock deep down wanted John to hold him back to keep him from walking away. "Pass me that." Said Sherlock adamantly. Gesturing to the cold beer Lestrade was clutching onto. 

"You wanna go easy lad?" Asked Lestrade with some concern in his voice. 

"Fuck easy." Replied Sherlock. He gulped a large quantity of the alcohol whilst staring at John and his date. Sherlock knew alcohol wasn't the appropriate answer as it wouldn't solve anything but the anger that boiled inside him didn't prevent the movement of the bottle attaching to his mouth. He analysed the girl burying herself into John while he smiled and whispered into her ear and his mod friends gathering round the pair like they were an attraction. In Sherlock's eyes they were an abomination. A meaningless distraction. Sherlock scowled. 

"They mods are asking for it," Lestrade cracked his knuckles loudly. "That one is staring back at you Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes snapped up to find John's glued to him. Sherlock's jaw clenched and gritted his teeth together sharing a look of anguish to the mod across the room. John was the first to break the eye contact. The act of cowardness. Sherlock couldn't read John like he could with everyone else: Lestrade was getting his hopes up to take a girl home tonight yet he couldn't figure what was lingering on John's mind. The girl hanging around John's neck was leaning in too close for Sherlock's liking. "Well if they're asking for it, let go give it to 'em." Sherlock grumbled. 

Mick, Ronnie, Anderson and Lestrade followed Sherlock over to the large group of rioting Mods. "This was the lad who was staring at Sherlock," Lestrade pointed in John's confused face. "Got something to say Mod?"

"I- I don't understand," John's eyes flickered between Lestrade and Sherlock not understanding the situation. 

"Well obviously you wanted to say something to Sherlock or you wouldn't have been staring at him for the past five minutes!" Lestrade exclaimed. "I'm sure you can get into real trouble for that," Anderson spat. 

"Listen we're here for a party, not a fucking brawl." Said Mike Stamford standing in front of John and his date. 

Sherlock chuckled deeply, "Nice little guard dog you got there Watson." 

"How does he know your second name?" Mike turned to John. To which John shrugged automatically. "Obviously a creepy stalker," Mike piped up. 

"Listen you fat cunt," Anderson leaped forward to rip into Mike but was caught by Lestrade. "You're lucky I'm not on yer because this is Danny's party."

Mike laughed along with all the other mods gathered around. John never chipped in with the laughter, he remained silent, looking up at Sherlock with regretful eyes. Sherlock felt little sympathy but John's eyes that were full of begging were the root of Sherlock's next action. Sherlock said to lestrade, "We're leaving."

Lestrade and Anderson looked at Sherlock, bemused. "What. Why?" 

"Let's go." Sherlock's voice was serious. 

Mike smirked in victory, "Just you wait till derby day." 

Sherlock stopped and turned on his heels, "Was that a threat?" 

Mike hummed, "Maybe, or maybe not." Sherlock's fists tightened. "Every greaser will be spitting blood on that pitch." John went to stop Mike from testing Sherlock's limits but he was too late. Sherlock had punched Mike and a trickle of blood seeped from Mike's nostril. "You bastard!"

Danny suddenly appeared between the two conflicts. "Enough, Sherlock, Leave." Danny's hand was pressed firmly onto Sherlock's torso to block him from pouncing on Mike. 

Sherlock straightened his leather jacket and tutted. His blue eyes taking a glimpse at John and he noted how much John's chest was rising and falling due to lack of breath. Sherlock staggered out of Danny's house when his phone vibrated in his pocket moments after. Sherlock immediately answered to find the words projected across the screen:

_Meet me behind Danny's in five minutes, no later than - JW_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Derby Day?? Any guesses what that might consist of??


	5. Drunken Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boy Shezza has hit too much bev and unleashes some of the feelings he wouldn't do when sober.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while super busy but now I have free time, hopefully I can get back into the swing of things

John waited impatiently in the cold blackness that surrounded him however John felt the darkness engulfing his figure and the air nipping his skin. John soon heard familiar footsteps progressing towards him; Sherlock. 

John didn't exactly know why he invited Sherlock to meet him privately when his date was lounging around - alone - in Danny's party where John left her with a poor excuse to leave. John was infuriated at Sherlock for punching Mike and humiliating him in front of peers but his temper was more a reason to see Sherlock again. 

Sherlock stopped right in front of John, holding out his arms at either side of himself like he was challenging the mod. "What's this about?" Asked Sherlock, unaware of the explanation to John's message.

"You just assaulted my friend!" Exclaimed John, now losing the will to control his anger.

Sherlock's brows furrowed, "He threatened me." He said in his defence. 

"Because your friends started shit," John hissed, "We were minding our own fucking business until we bumped into your _mates_." John stepped closer to Sherlock. 

"Don't speak to me like that John, you're forgetting where you come from," Sherlock's eyes bore into John's. "Me an' you are on the same level."

John gritted his teeth, "Don't think for one second I'd be on the same level as you, you greasy scumbag." 

Sherlock desperately wanted to hit John out of irritation caused by John's offensive comment, unleashing all the anger that boiled inside of him. "You know I've got good intentions of hitting you Watson."

"Well why don't you fucking do it," John dared. 

"Don't tempt me," Sherlock leaned in so his face was inches from John's as he disgustingly spat, " _Mod_." Sherlock sniggered before taking the higher horse and stepping in the opposite direction. 

"Why don't you do it," John's voice lowered an octave.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and turned to face the mod. "I think we both know why John, favour the latter if you will." 

"You wouldn't have had second thoughts if you never knew me," Said John. "If I was just some other mod."

"But that's the thing John!" Exclaimed Sherlock, "You're not are you." Sherlock's shrieks echoed in the alley. "Not to me." 

In turn of events John was now lost for words, he didn't know how to react but he knew what Sherlock was saying could be dangerous and they should be cautious of those around them. If Sherlock is as drunk as John thinks he is, Sherlock could unravel his feelings without consious thought which could put their friendship at risk in the morning. "You're drunk Sherlock," John mumbled to try and find an excuse to Sherlock's bizarre words. 

"I'm not good with feelings, I never have but you're completely turning it around and I'm... burning up because of it, your absence sent me over the fucking edge and I realised how important your presence is to me. You come waltzing into the party tonight without a care in the world, a bird in one arm to mask over the fact that you feel exactly the same." Sherlock's voice was full of angst. 

John couldn't admit to anything Sherlock was announcing so openly. John's eyes widened "You're wrong about all of this," lied John, "Stop feeding me false information."

"Glad to know you can bottle your feelings up John." Sherlock said flatly.

John huffed violently, "Im not bottling it up Sherlock, it's reality, that's all it is. **Reality**."

Sherlock's arms rested on his hips as he stared at the helpless mod in front of him with narrowed eyes. Sherlock could read anyone like a book yet John Watson was different, the mod was a mystery to the genius and he craved that curiosity. It was highly addictive. Sherlock knew by the way John's pupils dilated everytime they met that there was something more than just civil partnership. John made Sherlock's life more satisfying and it annoyed him that John wouldn't believe it, no matter how intoxicated he was.

"What you're talking about is highly inappropriate and you know it. What you're feeling is totally and utterly meaningless, if you're just trying to make a fool of me, well, you're making a fucking good job of it-"

"I'm not John, why'd you think I'm saying this. I'm a greaser, I have the biggest reputation of being the most annoying dick you could possibly have the misfortune to meet, my friends look up to me so do you really think I'd want to loose that over a trick for some boy that I met a week ago?" Sherlock huffed. "You know what forget it, I'm going, go back to your little fantasy world where everything is _so pure_  that suits your suitability... what you call _reality_." 

John stood there glued to the spot watching Sherlock drift away from him. John's blood fumed at the fact Sherlock may be right but he didn't want to admit it to the greaser or publically. Suddenly the anger washed away with worry as the drunken teen staggered off into the noir night without a way of getting home. "Wait Sherlock, how're you getting home?"

"Bike," Sherlock slurred as he continued to walk away. 

John sighed and ran after the boy as he did care about the greaser. "I'm not letting you ride when you're in this state, I'll take you home." 

"Get off me, you want nothing to do with me!" Sherlock yelled in his face. Obviously hurt at how John was thinking Sherlock was fake.

John brushed off the comment and continued to follow Sherlock as he cared more for Sherlock's wealth than his attitude. 

"John if you don't get off me I'm phoning the police." Sherlock said bitterly shrugging John's hand that was placed on his shoulder. 

"The police hate you." 

Sherlock hummed in defeat, "Hm, I suppose they do." Sherlock's scowl slowly turned into a sweet smile. John joined the sudden change of heart then he started to notice Sherlock slumping fast and losing balance, John luckily caught him in his arms to hoist him up right. 

Sherlock shivered at the strong grip as their clothing was the only thing preventing skin to skin contact.

John had luckily brought his fathers car to the party and he sneaked Sherlock into the passenger seat which was quite hard not bringing any notice to them as Sherlock was, screeching more than singing, 'Johnny B Goode' by Chuck Berry. John's fathers car was a rusty old motor that cost very little and could break down at any moment but it was a risk John was willing to take as long as he knew Sherlock would be safe. 

" _Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans,_ " Sherlock kept muttering under his breath as John glared at him with a warning expression. Sherlock wanted to test his limits and done so smugly. Sherlock's fingers tapped on the passenger window keeping in time with the melody in his head. Sherlock's mind started to lack and everything was going at full speed; he was drunk. The alcohol hit him at once and he didn't know how to stop his mind was speeding yet the rest of him was far behind; this was not good transport. Sherlock's brain wasn't functioning properly and this was the first night he had consumed more alcohol than he could handle. 

"Will you stop humming that awful tune," John rolled his eyes as he started to turn around the schemes. 

"Oi!" Exclaimed Sherlock, slamming his hands on the car's dashboard. "Tha's fuckin' chuck berry yer talkin' about," Sherlock slurred. 

John sighed heavily on purpose, "Could've picked someone better."

Sherlock displayed a horrified look of disgust at his driver. "Fuck up, yer like fuckin' sissy music."

John ignored the greasers comment and kept his attention focused on the road. 

"Anyways why yer drivin' me home, you've got a bird back at the party." There was a hint of jealousy in Sherlock's voice that made John smirk. 

"Yeah well she can wait, I'm getting you home first." John stuck to his morals. But he was starting to question the majority of them because of some juvenile he was spending alot of time with. 

Sherlock mimicked, "Oh yer such a gentleman." Sherlock's eyes observed everything around them but his sight was starting to haze and he couldn't process information like normal. 

"What's your address?" Asked the mod. 

"221B," Sherlock hiccuped, "Baker Street." Sherlock noticed the little affirmative nod John gave. Silence settled between them until Sherlock decided to break it. "She's pretty."

John's grip on the steering wheel tightened before he questioned the greaser. 

"The bird yer came in with, good on ye mate I say." Sherlock nudged John slightly. 

John suddenly got uncomfortable as he knew Sherlock was clearly envious. "She's nice and all but she's not got a personality what so ever." 

"Ye wouldn't mind her gettin' ye off though."

John spluttered a cough, "Can we please change the subject Sherlock." 

"I want to know what ye see in her," Sherlock mumbled. 

The answer was thin because John really didn't like his date  this evening. She was shallow and not very engaging. John had tried various attempts to get her to dance with him but all she wanted to do was drink which John still felt uneasy to cope with due to his alcoholic dad and sister. She also wanted cuddle into him and snog him but John wasn't really into it as much as she was. He finally came to a forced conclusion "She's a good dancer."

"No yer jus' saw the size of her breasts," remarked Sherlock cheekily. 

John laughed to himself finding drunk Sherlock hilarious. "You noticed then."

"How could yer not," Sherlock put his hands in front of him and started to squeeze the air mimicking the enlargement of her breasts which caused John to hit a fit of giggles. "But like I said to ye, that's not my sort of thing, they're just... hard to miss."

John's smile died down coming to the understandment that nothing was Sherlock's thing. "So uh, what exactly is your thing?" John rolled his tongue over his bottom lip wetting the plump skin.

Sherlock took a while to answer, "Not her tha's for sure."

John snorted as he rolled up outside Sherlock's flat. "Can you get up then?"

Sherlock lightly giggled and John thought it was adorable. What John didn't think was adorable was seconds later when Sherlock's face pressed against his passenger window. John huffed getting out of his side to release Sherlock from inside. Sherlock's body toppled onto the mods as he was a larger man in height. "Jawwwn," Sherlock said amongst a yawn. 

"I've got you," John said as he wrapped Sherlock's lanky arm around his structured shoulders. After two minutes of waiting outside an older woman answered. John stepped inside dragging Sherlock along with him as he was hanging around him like a puppy. 

"Ah, hudders!" Sherlock greeted cheerfully. 

"You've had too much Holmes, you told me you weren't drinking." Mrs Hudson crossed her arms in unsatisfactory. 

John chimed in, "It's great what a little persuasion can do." His smile lit up the hallway as Sherlock was tugging John towards the stair case indicating on going upstairs. John stood strong which rebelled against Sherlock's idea as he held out a hand to the older lady introducing himself, "I'm John."

Mrs Hudson beamed a large smile, "Oh so you're the mod Sherlock keeps rambling on about." The comment made John's face burn crimson as he glanced at the drunken idiot. "I'm Mrs Hudson, his landlady... well sometimes I act like his mother too!" Her eyes narrowed towards a slumped Sherlock holding onto the banister for dear life. 

"Hudders, is there tea upstairs."

"For the hundredth time Holmes, I'm your landlady! Not your house keeper." Mrs Hudson tutted. 

"Don't worry I'll get him sorted," John pushed Sherlock upstairs keeping behind the drunk incase he stumbled back. John was always there to catch his fall. 

Sherlock's hand wasn't steady and after multiple attempts John finally got his door to open and Sherlock stumbled inside. John entered analysing the place from ceiling to the floor. It wasn't what he expected in the slightest. There was a spread of science equipment laid out over the table in the kitchen full with various luminous liquids and a large microscope. John looked at Sherlock blankly. 

Sherlock in return shrug he tried innocently, "I like chemistry."

"That's not what I would've-" John stopped himself. 

"Expected." Sherlock mumbled, finishing John's sentence, as he fell gracefully onto his leather arm chair. 

John sighed, "I didn't mean..."

"No, judge away, I'm sure yer want to bloody search my flat incase I want to fuckin' pull a knife on ye next!" Sherlock tutted. Annoyed that John stereotyped him. 

John's head lowered feeling guilty, "Im sorry."

"It's okay, take a seat mod, yer givin' me anxiety." joked Sherlock. He watched John closely as he sat in the seat opposite him. Sherlock felt his head calm down and regain some focus but his heart rate was erratic as he stared at the mod in front of him. Sherlock read John's body language and he could tell by the firmly crossed arms that John was pissed off he was spending his night inside a scruffy flat rather than a party which led Sherlock to feel slight guilt swirling in the pit  of his stomach. Sherlock also noted that he was uncomfortable due to the constant tapping of his foot against Sherlock's floorboards. "Wantin' a beer?" Asked Sherlock to ease the atmosphere. 

John declined after some thought, "No thanks. Driving." He waved his fathers keys in the air. John's eyes scattered across the room taking in objects that Sherlock obviously had interest in. He laughed at the skull placed on his mantle piece, "Where'd you get that?" John questioned.

"Old friend," Sherlock smirked, "Well... I say friend..."

John laughed at Sherlock's attempt in being funny. "So is that where you keep your pocket knife too?" John's eyes struck towards the knife that was etched into the wood of the mantle piece. 

"Sometimes I get frustrated..." Sherlock said innocently with broad eyes. 

"Sometimes?" John chuckled as he observed the numerous engravings in the wood. "I suppose it's an alternative to stabbing someone."

Sherlock tutted, "I've never stabbed anyone in my life," Sherlock's arms crossed as his eyes locked and narrowed onto John. "Nor do I plan to... but with the way you're going I'll be tempted to."

John laughed lightheartedly, "I should get going it's getting rather late."

Sherlock's head lowered discretely and pulled out a cigarette from his leather jacket smoothly.

"Will you be fine on your own?" Asked John. 

Sherlock gave an affirmative nod before flicking a flame from his clipper and lighting the end of the stick until it was glowing; highlighting Sherlock's face. 

John felt uneasy leaving Sherlock on his own but he felt like he didn't want to push his limits by staying longer. John was oblivious to the fact that Sherlock wouldn't have minded if he did. John slowly emerged from the seat, standing up straight. 

Sherlock mirrored John's actions and stood up but unsteadily to the point John reached out in front and stopped him from toppling over. "Will..." Sherlock stuttered, his fingers gripped the base of the cigarette as his arms were wrapped around John's shoulders. "Will you help me to get to my bedroom?" 

John's strength kept Sherlock steady but John's mind was clouding with different scenarios. John noticed himself overthinking too much bringing a delayed reaction to Sherlock's question. "Yeah, as long as you don't go faint on me." John guided Sherlock to his room thanks to Sherlock's slurry directions. 

Sherlock tripped and fell effortlessly onto the bed with a giggle. John wrapped the covers over Sherlock's slim frame, making sure he was safe and comfortable. "Have a goodnight sleep, take these," John placed two paracetamol tablets in the bedside table "and a glass of water then thank me in the morning." 

"Thank you, gorgeous John." Sherlock mumbled under his breath before falling into a deep sleep in front of John. John couldn't help but admire the innocence in Sherlock's youthful face. John decided to get out of there quickly before he started to admire too much. 

As John was leaving the greasers room he spotted a small plastic bag that was worn and had been previously used. John's lips formed into a thin line as he noted the speckles of white powder surrounding the seal. It broke John inside that there was, clearly, left evidence of used illegal substance set out on the surface of Sherlock's drawers. John didn't know whether to be angry or sad at that moment. Sad being that Sherlock actually had to take drugs in his life to stimulate him. John's eyes slowly set on Sherlock, in the background, who was now snoring lightly. Sherlock's innocence clearly fooled John.

John left Sherlock's flat, on the way, stubbing Sherlock's lit cigarette out in the ash tray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are much appriciated folks :)


	6. Records

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff... more fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Sherlock has a crush,,,,,,,:)

_Sorry for any inconvenience last night._ \- SH

***five minutes later***

_I'm paying the consequences today. Major headache._ \- SH

John woke up to Sherlock's constant messages that irritated his phone. With a heavy sigh John started the day by slipping on a green toned paisley shirt and tight noir jeans. He was going to check on his friend Mike after the incident at the party. 

"That fuckin' Holmes has to watch his back!" Mike spluttered. John's thigh felt a vibration and an audiable _'pinging'_ noise coming from his phone that circled the table they were sitting at. Luckily everyone ignored it and Mike kept talking, "I swear I'm gonna put him six feet under." John's phone _'pinged'_ again and this time John squirmed a little, now sporting a red face. _No one paid attention._

"Punching me, who does he think he is? fucking rocky?" laughter erupted at the table, in the diner, the mods were sitting in. John cursed himself and cringed as he received _another_ ' _ping_ '. The laughter died and all eyes stared at John, he felt their gaze burn him. "D'ya want to get that?" Mike's eyes darted back and forth from John to the diner door, indicating to answer. John gulped then studied his peers and made a conscious decision to do so. John left the table and scraped the floor with his chair, sending a screech into the cold atmosphere, as he did so. 

John angrily snaked his phone out of his denim pocket to receive: five messages. 

_Baker Street now, its urgent._ \- SH

 _John, this is pretty serious._ \- SH

 _John?_ \- SH

 _Please._ \- SH

 _Come._ \- SH

John couldn't say no as the situation Sherlock was in at Baker street sounded serious. It was annoying that he couldn't leave him alone. John rushed back into the mods. 

"Mike, mate-"

Mike smirked, interrupting him, "Molly has been asking for you." 

John froze on the spot. He had forgotten all about Molly. "Oh right, okay." John said uncertain of how the subject changed from the greaser to molly. His stomach felt queezy.

"Did you get with her?" David questioned. 

John hesitated, "Uh... no I had other things on my mind... Listen Mike, I've got to run but I'm glad your feeling better." John ducked slightly as he left with no further comment. The other mods exchanged strange glances between one another but soon forgot about the conversation as they carried on normally. Mike was somehow getting skeptical at the regular absense of John.

 _John arrived at Sherlock's ten minutes later._

Sherlock heard footsteps rapidly increasing towards his door. As he turned to face who the guest was, John Watson burst through the door seeming breathless. Sherlock continued to lie on his couch as he mumbled, "Ah John, you came."

"Well yes," John cleared his throat, "You said it was urgent." 

"Oh right, could you hand me through some paracetamol, it's in the kitchen cupboard." Sherlock closed his eyes again to stop the shooting pain in his head. The hangover was too much hence the closed curtains closeting the room of any light source. 

John sighed heavily, realising that's the main reason Sherlock wanted John, "Are you fucking joking!" 

"No, my hangover is terribly bad." Sherlock simply said. 

John was about to burst into flames, "And you needed me to walk into your kitchen for you!"

"John I can barely walk-"

"Talk about being dramatic," John snorted, "I was out with my mates!"

"Oh, the _mods_." Sherlock widened his eyes as he spat 'mods'. "Like they'd notice that you were gone anyway."

John's lips formed into a line and he tensed his fists then stormed into the kitchen to fetch Sherlock his paracetamol. 

Sherlock snatched the paracetamol from john and gulped them down. 

"Anything else, d'ya want me to make you something to eat? Wipe your arse while I'm at it!" John exclaimed. 

Sherlock bit back a laugh, he thought an angry john was amusing. "Actually could you reply to this text?" Sherlock presented his phone in front of John. 

"Oh is your fingers suffering from the hangover too!" John snapped.

Sherlock's eyes spoke words to John that pleaded him to not shout and just answer the text. John wanted to resist but he gave in after staring down at Sherlock for a minute. "What do you want me to say?" John asked. 

"Type, I'm busy today, all day, so do not try to contact me. I'll give you a ring tonight to confirm if I will go out or not." Sherlock placed his hands under his head, resting his chin on his fingertips. 

"There. Done. Can I go now?" John rolled his eyes as he chucked Sherlock his phone back. 

Sherlock hummed in response, "Nope we're going out." 

John's face scrunched up not understanding the drastic change in feeling, "You're not well." John shrieked.

"For someone who is training to go to med school you are  _really_ giving a brilliant diagnosis," Sherlock stood up from the couch and brushed off excess fluff off of his white shirt. 

John could hit the sarcasm out of him. "And how do you know that I won't have plans of my own?"

Sherlock's brow cocked up, "Do you?" 

John gritted his teeth not giving an answer. Because he didn't. It annoyed John how Sherlock knew.

"Exactly," Sherlock slipped into his leather jacket and grabbed his metal clipper that rested on the table. Sherlock started proceeding down stairs as he popped his collar, "Do shut the door behind you, Mrs Hudson hates when the moths get in." 

John huffed and followed after the greaser. 

* * *

"A record shop!" said John, confused.

John observed the record shop. It wasn't fancy, infact, most of the paint work had rotted away and the glass windows were not sparkling under the sun. The shop was tiny in size, it clearly wasn't a well known shop either which John didn't mind as noone he knew would bump into him and Sherlock. It's not that John was ashamed of Sherlock, but if anyone of his mods seen them together John would get hung, drawn and quartered. 

Sherlock parked his motorcycle, the engine rattled to a halt. "Yeah, thought we could bond over music." Sherlock smiled from ear to ear as the two boys gazed at the shop in front of them. 

As the two stepped afoot into the shop, the bell rippled through the air signalling that there were new customers. John's eyes set upon the rows and rows of various record's in sleeves. John then looked at Sherlock beside him, he was transfixed by how Sherlock's eyes gleamed with admiration under the dim light of the room. 

"I'm guessing you like music," John said in a soft voice. 

"Love," Sherlock corrected John. He fled off to the rock n roll section and John joined.

Sherlock picked up 'Elvis' golden records' and memories of his parents dancing in the kitchen with him came flooding back. He used to play that record in his room as he grew up, earning a raging Mycroft yelling 'Turn that shit down' which resulted Sherlock increasing the volume. Sherlock's fingertips traced the outline of the shape. 

"Elvis, how cliché can you get?" John chuckled. 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Have you actually gave him a listen?" 

"Of course! Who hasn't heard of Elvis." John shrugged. "He's just not my cup of tea."

"What is your... _cup of tea_?" Sherlock mocked. 

If another boy had asked that John would've felt it was invasive but Sherlock was an exception. "The Jam... The who... The clash..." John listed off some bands he and his friends listen to on a night out. 

"Stop!" Sherlock slipped the Elvis record back where he found it. "I've heard too much, your taste in music is appalling." 

John took slightly offence. "It's what me and my mates listen to."

"Oh so they're the ones who fill you with rubbish music," smirked Sherlock. John couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Okay, this will truly test our friendship!" Sherlock grinned. 

John warmed up at the thought of the word _friendship_. 

"The Rolling Stones or The Beatles?" 

"Oh The Beatles without a shadow of a doubt!" John beamed. 

Sherlock scoffed, "We are now no longer friends." They both started giggling until the two boys attracted attention of other customers. John budged into Sherlock playfully, "Shh". 

"What, you don't like The Beatles?" John shockingly questioned. Seeming offended.

Sherlock humphed, "No I didn't say that. It's just I _prefer_ The Rolling Stones. Although I will admit John Lennon is my favourite beatle."

John mumbled, "That doesn't surprise me."

"What?"

"Nothing." John innocently answered. 

The two boys started flicking through vinyls to actually look as if they were not disturbing anyone.

"Who's your favourite beatle?" Sherlock asked. He wanted to know John better and since Sherlock loved music this was a brilliant topic to gather information from. Also Sherlock had figured out that if he got enough information from John he could figure out comparisons from Sherlock's taste to John's and see where John went wrong with music!

"Harrison." John replied.

They had started to increase their speed of scanning through records until Sherlock and John stopped and looked at each other as they both said in unison, "David Bowie!"

Two minutes later they were crammed inside a tiny box which had the cheek to be called station, listening to David Bowie. The two boys were jammed against each other as Bowie's voice echoed around the soundproof box. "At least we agree on some things," Sherlock chuckled breaking the tension.

_-How can life become her point of view-_

John could feel the heat radiating off of Sherlock's body and actually took the time to admire the smell of cigarettes mixed with fresh air and mint. Sherlock's hair was messy and falling in the front of his carved face. John took this time to appriciate Sherlock's beauty and how his cheekbones were popping under the small lighting of the box. John notices Sherlock's lips next and how prominent his cupids bow was. Sherlock's eyes averted John's burning look. He could also feel Sherlock's heartbeat pounding against his own chest. 

_-And when the clothes are strewn don't be afraid of the room-_

John started to feel rather lightheaded at the closeness of their bodies. 

_-Touch the fullness of her breast, feel the love of her caress-_

Sherlock could feel John tensing up and he, himself, was afraid to move. After the carry on last night, Sherlock felt ashamed, he felt closeted. 

_-She will be your living end-_

John burst out of the box first and Sherlock came second switching off the record. "I love the piano playing in that track, it's remarkable." Sherlock blabbered in a rush to not make anything more awkward than it already is. 

"Yeah, remarkable and his voice is just stunning." John blurted.

The tension died when Sherlock's phone started ringing. "Lestrade." John suddenly felt smaller, not in height as that was clearly _already_ a problem next to Sherlock, but as in his place with Sherlock compared to others. John definitely **wasn't** jealous of his friendship with Lestrade. "Yes, okay, I'll see... You... Later." 

"You going out then?" Asked John. His voice seemed faded.

Sherlock's lip quirked up, "Yes _we_ are." Sherlock chuckled to himself as he headed towards the door leaving a baffled John Watson behind him. 

" _Yes we are.._." John repeated himself before realising what he had said, "wait, Sherlock!" John ran out of the shop to find Sherlock on his motorbike. "What the hell are you doing!" 

"Get on John, I'm taking you to get dolled up, I'm assuming you've got no plans for tonight?" Sherlock never gave time for John to speak before he rudely spoke for him, "Good. Get on."

John couldn't argue, not with Sherlock, Sherlock always won. "Where are we going?"

"To give you a make over, I've been invited out tonight and I've decided you're coming. Get your greaser on, _mod_."

* * *

 

John and Sherlock arrive at a barber shop on Buchan Road. "Woah, I'm not chopping my fuckin' hair." John protested. 

Sherlock chuckled darkly, "Well you can't go into The Firebone tonight without looking like a greaser." John huffed loudly. "Look, what'll do for you is I will tell Angelo to not cut your hair, just style it like mine. A bit of grease isn't going to harm you _Mod_."

John didn't know why Sherlock so badly needed John to accompany him tonight in a pub full of greasers that would eat him alive. "Please explain to me why you want me to go tonight!"

"So I can show you what a night of _living_ feels like, instead of being dragged down by your so called mates and skinny jeans." To which, in fairness, Sherlock didn't mind skinny jeans on John though he wouldn't admit to it openly. "Now are you coming or what?" Sherlock was holding the door open for John, beckoning him to come in. 

John felt himself being lured into an alternative universe without any protection. When John entered the barbers there were four dark used leather chairs, empty. Mirrors pairing with each chair and a selection of scissors and gel spread across the table, adjacent the leather chairs. John's eyes widened as he took in the smell of cheap cigarettes and Johnny Cash playing in the background. 

"Sherlock!" Angelo greeted.

Sherlock greeted Angelo likewise. John awkwardly stood there, not fitting in. As Sherlock was explaining to Angelo, "My... friend... would like his hair styled like mine but don't-" John's eyes were locked on a lady with tight black leggings, a tight crimson crop top that showed her curves and a large amount of cleavage, ruby red lips and her hair curled volumising the thickness. "You got that?" Sherlock asked. John felt his mouth watering at the sight of the girl. 

When suddenly the girl gasped, "Oh, Sherly!" Her heels clomped against the tiles of the flooring and she rushed past John not acknowledging he was there. The girl's arms clung around Sherlock's figure as he stood still with a straight face. John didn't understand. This girl was _stunning_ and Sherlock didn't react. John's trousers would've reacted if she had came up to him and greeted herself like that.

Sherlock could feel the strength of Kitty's arms crush his back. "Kitty, get off." Sherlock calmly said. Kitty did so and Sherlock had the urge to straighten his leather jacket. "John, this is Kitty-Kitty, this is my friend, John. If you'll excuse us, we must be getting on." Sherlock stepped forward but she blocked his view of John. Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"You going to Firebone tonight?" she asked, leaning forward purposely to emphasis the size of her breasts to Sherlock.

John stood there speechless at the girl's attempt of seduction.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, "Yes. Not that it applies to you."

"That's not the only thing that could bone tonight," Kitty's heart eyes were searching all around Sherlock's face.

Sherlock scoffed in disgust, "Don't flatter yourself doll. I wouldn't go near you with a ten foot pole."

"Not what you said last time Sherly," she winked, "Good day." Kitty turned on her heels and smiled at John who stood there in awe. 

Angelo started laughing as Kitty walked throught the back of the shop. "She's a tough one."

"Not to me she ain't." Sherlock's crossed arms eased as she was soon out of site. 

***

John spun around in the barber chair sporting his new hair style. Sherlock felt his breath hitch as John's unsure eyes locked onto his blue ones. The 50's style suited the shape of John's face. The positioning of the hair got rid of the fringe so Sherlock could really see John's beauty clearer now, maybe getting the hair change wasn't a good idea for Sherlock's strength.

"Is it alright?" John asked hesitantly.

Sherlock mentally hit himself for staring and not speaking. "Yes," Sherlock blurted in a high pitched voice, then cleared his throat and tried again. "We'll be going now, thanks Angelo." Sherlock fled the shop to get fresh air whilst John paid Aneglo.

John knew there was something suspicious about Sherlock. John met Sherlock outside, a lit cigarette dangling from Sherlock's lips and clouds of smoke surrounding him. 

"You okay?" questioned John. 

Sherlock didn't know how to answer when his mind palace was shattered inside by John's new appearance. He felt his fingertips tingle when he lifted the cigarette from his lips. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" 

John shrugged, "Just asking." John looked at his reflection in the baker shop window and slicked his hands theough the sides of his hair. There was a part of him deep down that actually adored the style. 

"How'd you feel?" Sherlock said whilst puffing out smoke.

John wasn't set on a particular mood. "Anxious for tonight but excited for the hair. My mum would have a heart attack!" chuckled John.

"You suit it," Sherlock muttered.

John heard the compliment and smiled softly.

Sherlock felt his cheeks redden and his palms go aflame. "I'm pretty envious actually, you have better hair than me," Sherlock snorted.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The street names and clubs I have made up.


	8. Greaser's night out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLYYYY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for hardly updating, I'm starting to get into this story again.

"I feel ridiculous," John sighed as he looked at himself in Sherlock's bedroom mirror. John had Sherlock's deep blue denim turn up jeans and an oversized sleeveless plain black top. John felt a chill rush down his spine. "I'll be freezing all night!"

Sherlock 'tsk'ed' and threw him a leather jacket, "problem solved."

"Are you trying to make me look like a dick?" John slipped his arms into the jacket that fitted John surprisingly well.

Sherlock couldn't now admire John's arm muscles. "I think it suits you in a kind of way..." Sherlock muttered as he buried himself in his own leather jacket. "You look like one of us, how'd you feel?"

"Nervous I guess..." John shrugged. He was starting to doubt himself. "Sherlock, I think they'll recognise who I am."

"They're a bunch of goons," Sherlock pointed out. Sherlock's eyes scanned John's pysique discreetly and felt himself get hot under the collar looking at John cocooned in leather. The jacket clung to his figure revealing all of John's sharp shapes. "You ready to go? they'll be expecting us now," Sherlock started walking to the door quickly to prevent any more staring. 

John reached out for Sherlock and held him back. "You really sure about all this?" 

Sherlock gulped at the contact of John's hand on his shoulder, "You look great. I won't let anything happen to you. Promise." 

* * *

"Here he is!" Anderson yelled over the 50's music in the background. 

"About fuckin' time too," Lestrade chimed in. Then his eyes glued to the new character Sherlock had brought along, "Who's this?" Lestrade referred to John. 

John lingered by Sherlock, his heart beating rapidly waiting for Sherlock's reply. 

"Lestrade, this is my friend... John... y. Johnny." Sherlock sounded unsure. 

John was so tense he gripped onto sherlock's leather jacket whilst staning behind him like Sherlock was his barrier. 

"You've never mentioned him before?" Lestrade's brows furrowed in suspision. 

"He's staying with me for a while, he's a family friend," Sherlock simply said. He was good at lying. 

Lestrade chuckled, "When did you ever care about family Sherlock." Lestrade's eyes set on John, "Nice to meet you," he held out his hand to greet John peacefully. John accepted the gift. "You look rather familiar..." said Lestrade as he dropped his hand from John's. 

"Well, you know... you've probably seen me out and about some time. Sherlock let me wonder about to get to know the place whilst he worked in the garage," John could feel a lump forming in his throat. John was not so good at lying.

Lestrade suddenly smiled sweetly, which let John breathe, "You like being here?" 

John swallowed audibly, "Yeah, it's lovely. Really enjoying myself and Sherlock's company."

Sherlock was taken back at the sweetness of John's words and he felt a comforting warmth invade his stomach. "Drinks, Johnny would you like a beer?" Sherlock tried to hid the blooming blush forming on his face. 

John noticed, nodded and smiled to himself. 

Sherlock soon returned with drinks. His hand brushed John's and he felt his spine shivver at the contact.

"So you must be Mr Holmes." A velvet voice purred behind Sherlock. The voice cause Sherlock to turn on his heels. 

Lestrade tutted, "Ah, Sherlock, I'd like you to meet-"

"Miss Adler, I presume," Sherlock sipped his beer.

John stood there clueless but all he could see was an attractive woman, with long legs and a red tight dress on. Her hair pinned up beautifully and make up done so effortlessly. 

"Sherlock Holmes, I've been looking forward to meeting you," her voice was smooth.

Sherlock raised his brows and muttered, "I wish I could say likewise."

John nearly spat out his alcohol. 

"How rude of me, this is my good friend John.. Johnny." Sherlock stuttered forgetting his other name for tonight.

Irene smirked, "A good friend, you've never had good friends according to you Holmes. A good looking one too."

John felt himself shrink in the leather jacket at her smug words. "Nice to meet you," he simply replied. 

Irene gave him a little smile before her full attention was directed to Sherlock, "So Sherlock, when you buying me a drink?" 

"If that is your indication to flirt with me you're making a poor attempt, Lestrade give the lass what she so clearly needs," Sherlock sipped his beer as he made eye contact with John. It was evident that Sherlock had no interest in the most attractive woman in the pub. John was left confused.

"You will find me and Johnny in the nearest booth," Sherlock swiftly brushed past the leggy brunette, "Johnny."

John lowered his head to avoid Irene's gaze on them. He followed Sherlock to a darkened booth that was private. John bunched up against Sherlock as he was intimidated by the well built men in the pub with big boots. "Sherlock, this is not a good idea."

"Will you please just drink up, you'll have a better night once you settle in," Sherlock guzzled more of the alcohol he bought. 

"Why did you reject that girl? She was into you," John asked afraid of what he was going to say. John wanted to make conversation.

"I get it every weekend John, numerous girls coming up to me only for one thing that I won't provide no matter how attractive they may be. I told you once Watson, any emotion is a pond to me and I am keen to keep it that way," Sherlock's words spilled rapidly in John's face. 

John sighed, "Don't you get bored?" 

"Bored? Bored of what?"

"You must have... impulses." John moved slightly to adjust his sitting position. He knew this was dangerous waters to bring up this conversation with Sherlock. John knew Sherlock wasn't one for talking about personal feelings but John was becoming more and more attracted to the greaser. John would never class himself as totally gay as he has been with many women and still finds a select few attractive. Something was different about Sherlock. Sherlock's attitude, cheek bones and eyes captured John in a trance he had never experienced before. John felt him being physically attracted to him and he wanted to bring the best out of Sherlock, to show him what feelings and a heart can do.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Please change the subject."

"I'm just curious!"

"Why of all people would you be curious!" Sherlock said in defence. 

To which john shrugged and sipped his drink, "Talking from... man to... man, mod to greaser..."

The side of Sherlock's lips curled up, "Not tonight, it's greaser to greaser."

"With the exception of tonight!" John said through gritted teeth. 

"I rather like you in leather," Sherlock smirked as his eyes wondered up and down John's figure.

John could feel heat spread across his cheeks and slight discomfort in his jeans at the way Sherlock's voice soothed that compliment. "So back to my previous question," John cleared his threat, "How many experiences have you had?"

Sherlock licked his lips teasingly slow, "Well if you're so inclined to know. The amount of experiences I've had you could count hands down."

John's eyes locked onto Sherlock's and John could feel his breathing hitch in that moment. John swallowed loudly. "Well... I... I never thought you-"

"Knew I'd find you two eventually!" Lestrade interrupted and took a seat next to Sherlock. John was disappointed they couldn't carry on the conversation due to uninvited guests arriving. And to John's further disappointment Irene was also present. "Sorry Irene do you want to sit next to Sherlock," Lestrade wriggled his brows in a flirtatious way which made John gag. 

After a minute of switching seats Sherlock was in the middle of Irene and John. Never had Sherlock felt so inclined to pass out. 

"Tell me more about yourself Johnny, you must know Sherlock very well." Irene intruded leaning over Sherlock in attempt to reveal more of her cleavege to Sherlock. 

"Yes well, he's a family friend and asked me to accompany him on a night out," John suddenly regretted his comment as Sherlock's crew burst into fits of giggles. 

"You sound like this is a date, bunch of qu-"

"Anderson!" Sherlock exclaimed whilst firing him a dangerous look. 

Anderson apologised as John ran his hands over his jean clad thighs, "It's perfectly fine."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Anderson who looked at everyone else wanting to earn a rise in laughter. No one gave Anderson a response. 

"Maybe he does bat for the other team," Irene pipped, "I've never seen you with a woman." 

Sherlock tutted, "I've been with many of girls." His eyes on his group of greasers that started whistling.

"And what about you Johnny?" Irene asked leaning forward. 

"I think that's a bit intrusive." Johnny muttered. 

Sherlock noticed John's sudden change in posture, he was uncomfortable. "But if you happen to know I have a lovely girlfriend back at home."

Sherlock's eyes widened at the undercover greaser sitting next to him. A wash of disappointment flooded across his body. He could feel his eyes begin to water at John next to him, he tried to hide the disappointment but his eyes truly gave it away although, surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut. 

"Oh yeah, she's lovely... Molly is her name..." John winked at the males gathered around the table, "Big tits." John started to join in the howls of laughter with the greasers. All but Sherlock was laughing. 

"What do you say then Sherlock, want to buy me a drink?" Irene clicked her tongue seductively.

Sherlock got an urge to use his charm. If John wanted to act like a dick so could he. It wasn't competition to Sherlock because Sherlock always won. Fact. "Okay darlin, why don't you help me."

"With pleasure Mr Holmes," her voice like silk. 

Sherlock shuffled along the seat as Irene took his hand in hers. John stayed with the greasers that were shouting dirty stuff at the pair. John fell quiet as he observed Irene's touch on Sherlock. He couldn't help but remember the feeling of himself brushed up against Sherlock in the record store and how natural it felt with Sherlock's creamy skin against his own. There was a hint of jealousy displayed in John's eyes as the way Irene twirled around Sherlock's figure.

* * *

"Sherlock was just telling me what a brilliant friend you are to him," Irene slurred as her hands were all over Sherlock's torso. John even witnessed her hand slip under Sherlock's top. He stood there with his toes curling in the boots Sherlock gave him. 

John was nursing a new beer, "Well I'll always be there for him." John's gaze fell onto Sherlock's bright blue eyes. John displayed a moment of sentiment in his choice of words and the way he was looking at Sherlock. Sherlock noticed. 

"As will I," Sherlock said with deep honest. Their eyes still glued to each other. Sherlock was feeling rather tipsy but not as intoxicated as Watson. "No matter what the circumstances."

John knew that was said with compassion and he warmed up from that thought until Irene started talking. "If I knew any better I would've thought you two were a couple." She laughed. "Sherly, I think I might go and see some of my girls, I've been so busy with you, you handsome man." Just then Irene planted a long kiss on Sherlock's lips. Sherlock was just as surprised as John was although he never felt the jealousy radiating off of John. John could feel the kiss deepen as Irene started to wrap herself around his body. John forced himself to look in the other direction, it was much less painful. After a couple of seconds Irene pulled away leaving Sherlock's lips stained crimson. "See ya." She hopped away into the crows of greasers. 

John coughed to break the tension, "She really likes you then." His eyes never meeting Sherlock's. 

"Yeah so it seems," Sherlock used the back of his sleeve to wipe off the lipstick that stained his lips. "Me however..."

John chuckled, "What you didn't find that pleasurable?"

"Well given our conversation earlier on I can now say that was my first kiss." Sherlock felt weird of the taste left behind. Wine invading his mouth. 

John's brows arched in shock, "That... that was your first kiss!"

Sherlock nodded. 

"She's alright for yer... first kiss... mines was nowhere near as hot as she is." John snorted. 

"Oh, Who was your first?" Sherlock now asked the questions. 

"I was eleven... under a tree all because she liked my jeans that I was wearing," john laughed remembering the significant moment, "and I've not had a good kiss since, I remember getting an immediate boner afterwards that's when you know." 

Sherlock's laughter erupted the bar. "Well I can honestly, hand on heart say I've never had one of those.."

"Hard ons?" John questioned. 

Sherlock grumbled and nodded, "Yeah. That."

"So you don't know what turns you on, what doesn't."

"Well clearly Irene didn't have an impact on me." Sherlock glanced below, John couldn't help but also look down.

John's eyes snapped back up before Sherlock realised he took a peak too, "Maybe you haven't found the one," John suggested. 

"Stop being so clichè John."

"It's Johnny tonight," John smiled at Sherlock who mirrored the grin back. 

Lestrade suddenly pounced on Sherlock's back whilst screaming.

"Fuck sake Lestrade!" Sherlock cussed. 

John inwardly sighed to try and seem not openly disappointed at the new company. 

"Johnny you wantin accompanied home tonight. Got a couple of girls that are gagging for it," Mick smugly looked at John. 

"No it's okay, I'm going home to Sherlock's tonight. Doubt he'd like that," John chuckled nervously. 

"I don't think he'd mind, you know with Irene helping him home tonight and that," Mick bumped into Sherlock's shoulder playfully. 

"Oh she's coming home with us tonight," John said surprisingly. 

"I never said that," Sherlock looked deeply into John's eyes and then turned, "I never said that," he growled at Mick. 

"Never said what babe," Irene jumped infront of Sherlock blocking his view of john. 

"Nothing," Sherlock dismissed the conversation as Irene started to whisper into Sherlock's ear.   
John felt jealousy invade him again.

Sherlock suddenly felt her lips brushing against his ear and his goosebumps increased at the warmth of her breath tickling his ear. Before he knew it the other presence infront of him was absent. John. 

Sherlock instantly pushed Irene off of him when he noticed John had walked out fo the bar. Sherlock burst through the doors of the pub and seen John in the distance, his back turned indicating that John was leaving, Sherlock continued to yell his name as he sprinted over to him. 

John didn't want to turn back until he felt the force of Sherlock's hand upon his shoulder. John's hands were tensed due to all the jealousy that rushed through his veins. In front of Sherlock, John felt himself deflate as he yelled, "I can't do this anymore, What are you doing to me!" John exclaimed. 

"John, please calm down."

"No Sherlock! I can't, stop telling me what to do," John was on the verge of tears. 

Sherlock quickly diverted them towards a dark alley so that they never attracted attention to passers by. "You can't what, John, tell me."

The last thing Sherlock could process was John's lips against his own. Sherlock's mind exploded into flames, his mind palace came crashing down and he couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of John's crisp lips. Shock took over Sherlock's body, he couldn't move his hands to grab ahold of john to press him closer, nothing worked apart from his lips. Sherlock felt his feet sink into the ground, he wanted to stay like this forever.  

John was the first to pull back. 

"Sherlock, I am so sorry-"

After a moment of snapping into reality. Sherlock pulled on the lapels of John's leather jacket and reattached his lips with the ones he felt most comfortable with. John for the first time was speechless. After a couple of more seconds they both pulled back to inhale air, Sherlock's face was blank. 

"That was..." John muttered.

"Unexpected." Sherlock finished his sentence. 

John sucked in a breath, "Yep, very."

"John," Sherlock said quite timidly. 

John looked at Sherlock questioningly, "What?"

"My trousers..." Sherlock indicated to look down, John did so and laughed. 

"Enjoyed it then?" John winked.

Sherlock answered, "Fuck yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whose happy for our boys!!!?????
> 
> Comments appriciated :)


	9. Nice to see you again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock bangs into quite a few people in this chapter;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning some scenes that contain sexual content

It had been two days since the kiss happened between Sherlock and John. Sherlock was on edge as various thoughts of why he hadn't heard from John flooded his memory, ‘did I do something wrong?’, ‘was I too forward?’ and the one that was on repeat like a broken record, “was I good enough?”

Returning to school was like a disease to Sherlock, he desperately wanted to dodge school but he wouldn’t pass an opportunity to see John. Sherlock’s motorcycle grumbled until he switched off the engine at the front of the school entrance. Lestrade caught sight of Sherlock and approached him with a huge grin. “Hey shagger,” he greeted. 

Sherlock shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Irene Adler, she couldn’t keep her eyes off you. Did you go home with her?” Lestrade wriggled his brows. 

“No,” Sherlock said bluntly, “and even if I did, It’s none of your business.”

Lestrade winked and changed the subject, “Johnny seems like a right fella, where is he?” He started searching for John. 

Sherlock shivered, “He’s home, at mine, he didn’t want to go to school because he didn’t want to start a new term. He’s a drop out.” 

“Sounds like a greaser through and through, we’ll need to go to the diner tonight. All of us.” Lestrade sounded hopefully. 

Sherlock’s cheeks reddened, “We’ll see, we going to class now?”

“Never seen Sherlock Holmes so eager to get to Maths.” Lestrade chuckled as he patted Sherlock on the back and they headed inside.

* * *

John sat at his desk, tapping the end of his pencil impatiently. It felt good not being strapped in leather. John was in the middle of working out a Pythagoras calculation when he heard the teacher exclaim, “Mr Holmes. You are late!”

John’s head snapped up and he spotted the greaser’s curly jelled quiff, the same hair he had dug his fingers into as he snogged him the pervious night. A gush of excitement washed over his body as he noticed the tight jeans he was wearing. 

“I know,” was all Sherlock replied as he continued to his seat. All eyes were on him but Sherlock only noticed John’s eyes on him. A glint of cheek was shot at John as Sherlock gave him his signature smirk. John felt his eye twitch involuntary. John quickly averted his eyes. “Well, Sherlock, if you know you should come to class when it actually starts. Not wonder in whenever you feel like it.” 

“You need to get laid,” Sherlock murmured which cause the class to erupt with laughter. 

“Outside!” The teacher bellowed. 

Sherlock scraped back his chair and left giving John a glance as if he was checking him out. John shifted in his seat suddenly feeling an urge to snog the hell out of him. 

* * *

Sherlock drew in smoke into his lungs as he was leaning against the school brick wall. He exhaled a cloud of smoke that lingered around him until he spotted his favourite mod. John was walking with books clinging into his chest, his muscular arms wrapped tight around them. Sherlock places his hand on John's shoulder causing him to stop in his tracks.   
“John,” Sherlock sighed. “Come with me.” 

John glanced around wondering if anyone was watching, John followed Sherlock around the side of the building near the old bomb shelter that was plastered with graffiti. “What is it-“ John croaked before he was pushed up against the metal door of the bomb shelter, his books buried into the ground below them as Sherlock pressed into John and slammed his lips into the mods. John couldn’t care about his biology books. He was too engulfed into Sherlock’s embrace. 

John could feel Sherlock’s tongue begging for acceptance. The feeling of Sherlock invading John’s mouth was dirty and it seemed almost menacing. John couldn’t help but groan as he felt Sherlock’s body trap him underneath. The cold feeling of Sherlock’s leather jackets lapels pressing against his Fred Perry polo shirt was exhilarating. Sherlock pulled back whilst biting into John’s bottom lip, with a growl he said, “I want you to fuck me into next week.” 

“Hello to you too,” John laughed. Sherlock let out a breathy chuckle. “Your bad boy facade is deteriorating.”

“Only you can do that to me, mod.” Sherlock clicked his tongue as he said ‘mod’. “Believe it or not I didn’t pull you aside to just stick my tongue down your throat. I wanted to ask you something, or for you to do something for me.”

John shivered at how close he could feel Sherlock’s breath on his skin. John gulped feeling under Sherlock’s thumb. “What is it?”

“Lestrade wants to see Johnny again, he thinks he’s a brilliant guy.”

“Oh, no, no Sherlock,” John slid from Sherlock’s grip to his dismay. “I’m not doing it.” 

“John don’t be like this, please, I’m begging you. Lestrade will become suspicious if I say you can’t make it when I’ve already told him you’re living with me. He’ll want to come over. He’ll just find away around it. John, I’m begging you.” Sherlock said with pleading eyes. 

John sighed.

Sherlock gradually got closer to John and placed a kiss on his cheek. John could feel Sherlock’s soft lips graze his skin, John’s eyes automatically rolled to the back of his head with pleasure. Sherlock whispered, “plus I can't resist you in leather.” Sherlock grinned knowing he had John under his spell. 

“How long do I need to be Johnny?” John muttered. 

“Just for a couple of weeks,” Sherlock bit his lip in the hope John would agree. 

John remained silent for a moment, “Alright, i’ll do it, but only for you. Not because I like being a greaser.”

Sherlock physically jumped for joy. “It’s in you a little bit.” He smirked as he nudged John playfully.

“So how am I suppose to go about this. Come to your house?” John questioned. 

“Yes right now, you have to get changed,” Sherlock’s closeness had John feel like jelly. “We’ll need to wait until the school have cleared about, can’t be seen with a greaser right mod.” Sherlock smirked. 

“Right so what are we going to do for the time being?” John questioned, lightly biting his lip. 

Sherlock’s eyes roamed John’s face and then plunged to steal another kiss... or two. 

* * *

“John this is Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock greeted them both. 

“Yeah we’ve met,” John laughed lightheartedly.

Sherlock looked confused, “Have you?”

“Yes dear but you were too drunk to remember,” Mrs Hudson said, “Will I bring up a cup of tea for you boys?”

“That’d be lovely Mrs Hudson,” John smiled sweetly. They both rocketed up the staircase to Sherlock’s flat. 

“Oh and remember to knock Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock shouted downstairs cheekily. Mrs Hudson smiles to herself.

As soon as they shut the door behind them Sherlock’s lips were attached to John’s. John groaned at how strong Sherlock was pushing John against the wood of the closed door.

“Sherlock,” John moaned as he felt Sherlock roll his hips slowly. Their hardness’ spurred on by one another. 

“Oh fuck!” Sherlock cussed. John’s skin tingled by the grumble of Sherlock’s voice.

John wanted to devour him, he’d never wanted anyone so badly in his life.

“John, will you let me, I need to touch you.” 

John’s breathing intensified and soon his breathing became fragmented due to Sherlock’s fingers hooking into the waistband of John’s skinny white jeans. John gave an affirmative nod and Sherlock slid the fabric down John’s muscular legs until John was stood there, painfully hard, in his boxers. Sherlock had a face of determination and his eyes became dark with lust. 

Sherlock’s chest heaved up and down, he was breathless, as he took in the sight of John, half naked. Sherlock smiled sweetly thinking about how lucky he was, Sherlock’s hand grabbed onto John’s wrist as he guided John towards his couch. Sherlock lay on the couch and John fell ontop of him, their lips connecting once again. Sherlock lifted his hips so they would brush against John’s eliciting a moan from him. 

“John, John,” Sherlock stopped John. Their eyes attached to one another. “Are you sure, you know, you want to do this? I don’t want to force you into anything-“

“I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you.” John whispered cutting Sherlock off. 

Sherlock swallowed loudly: John Watson was all of his. 

Sherlock continued to kiss John as he slowly slipped his hand under the waistband of John’s boxers. 

John could feel his limbs crumble as Sherlock wrapped his hand around his shaft. He moaned at the skin to skin contact and his hips automatically moved with Sherlock’s hand to achieve full pleasure. John had never been with a boy before. In fact he had never been this intimate with anyone before and for Sherlock to be his first was a pleasure in itself. He could feel Sherlock applying pressure to his grip which made John’s knees buckle. “Oh fuck!”

Sherlock’s hardness rubbed against the fabric from his jeans and he felt like he could come just by watching John in bliss. John was thriving ontop of Sherlock as Sherlock pumped him continuously. John’s shaft feeling hot and heavy in his palm. Sherlock decided to use the pre-cum leaking out of John’s tip as a lubricant and John shivered at the sensation. Sherlock could feel the blood rush to his groin and his cheeks. Sherlock’s hand sped up as his lips sucked the skin below John’s ear. He wanted to make John feel special. Sherlock’s tongue brushed against the red spot he had marked before giving a growl. 

“Sher-sherlock, I’m not gonna last much lo-“ John moaned, “-nger.”

“Come for me John,” Sherlock whispered. 

The feeling of Sherlock’s hot breath against his damp skin was enough in itself and John let go before he knew it. “I-I’m, Oh god!” Johns head fell to the side of Sherlock’s as he planted frantically whilst emptying himself across Sherlock’s shirt and hand. ‘Oh god those hands!’ He thought. 

The heaviness of John’s breathing and the delightful moans shared between one another tipped Sherlock over the edge. He came inside his jeans with a grumble, his come slowly staining a dark patch in the denim. Both of the boys stayed in the position for a few seconds to catch their breath. 

Sherlock had never felt so dirty. 

“Fuck, John,” Sherlock panted. John’s hands immediately cupped Sherlock’s bulge and Sherlock pushed his hands away. “I took care of it,” Sherlock mumbled. 

John sat up with a bright crimson face, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt.”

“The shirts not the most important thing right now,” Sherlock smiled showing his slight dimples. John felt his heart melt at the look Sherlock shot him. They both ended up chuckling to themselves. Sherlock finally leaned forward and kissed John on the lips before excusing himself to get changed. 

John leaned back on the sofa and retrieved his trousers that were abandoned on the floor. He sat back feeling more relaxed than ever before. There was a passion inside him that was now alive. Now that him and Sherlock had became intimate John was automatically pulled towards Sherlock mentally and physically. Would he even go as far as to say that there was feelings involved? To a certain extent that scared John. He shouldn’t be in a greasers company or a boys company with intended intimacy. He would be skinned alive if any of his family or friends found out their secret. 

Sherlock walked back in sporting new clothes and dumping the soiled ones in a washing basket. Sherlock sat next to John and he felt instantly warm with the presence. “You should get ready, Lestrade will want us at the diner soon.” Sherlock smiled. 

John mirrored the smile as there was a knock on the door, “boys! Tea’s ready.”

They both burst into laughter. 

* * *

“Johnny, nice to see ya again mate!” Lestrade patted John’s shoulder. 

John felt welcomed instantly, “nice to see you too, I was wondering how long Sherlock would keep me hostage in that flat of his,” John joked. They laughed. 

Sherlock smirked to himself realising the harshness of the hickey he gave John earlier and thinking about it got him hot under the collar. Sherlock peeled his eyes off of John to reduce suspicion between the two. 

More greasers showed up as time passed and under the table Sherlock and John couldn’t help but have subtle touches of each other. No one seemed to notice. 

“Woah Johnny boy, that’s some size o’ a hickey on yer neck!” Anderson finally pointed out. 

John’s heart thumped to the bottom of his stomach in fear. 

“His girlfriend was over for a couple of days,” Sherlock intervened. John untensed. 

“Nice one. Did you give her a good one,” Ronno whistled. John felt uncomfortable. But if this is what greasers brag about, then he shall continue with it. 

“Yeah, but she was the one that done me most,” John quickly glanced up to Sherlock and transferred smiles. 

Suddenly there was multiple headlights shining into the diner window. John closed his eyes. The light was too much for him. The grumble of an engine finally switched off. 

Sherlock’s face was invaded with panic. His eyes were glued to the diner window to get a clearer view of who it is but Sherlock already deduced by the roar of the engines. 

Lestrade leaned over to Sherlock and whispered, “Get Johnny out of here now.” 

Sherlock’s eyes were still stuck to the new comers outside. His mind was blank and it only took Sherlock a minute to realised what Lestrade has actually said. Sherlock swallowed and grabbed John’s wrist as he rushed out of the diner booth. 

John was filled with confusion. The intense hold Sherlock had on John’s wrist was enough to tell him that something dangerous was about to happen. John was even more surprised when Sherlock dashed into the boys toilets with him. John’s heart was pounding in fear. 

“You stay here, don’t go anywhere else unless I tell you to. Don’t go anywhere until I’m back here.” Sherlock commanded.

John huffed a chuckle, “I’m not a fucking puppy.”

Sherlock but his lower lip realising how much of a jerk he sounded but he was doing it for John’s safety. “Just do as I say!” Sherlock growled. 

John was taken back but Sherlock’s sudden change of tone. He felt a little hurt by the biting command. 

Sherlock rushed out of the toilets and back into the diner where he was greeted by his old nemesis. 

A voice that could cut you in half, a slight Irish twang, squeaked, “Sherlock Holmes, so nice to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun duuunnnn


	10. Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little heated

“Moriarty,” Sherlock nodded towards him giving Moriarty the acknowledgment that he craves.

Sherlock was about to sit down when Moriarty barked, “I’m not finished talking.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued to stand, obeying to Moriarty. The rest of Moriarty’s fleet sauntered in behind him. Lestrade practically growled towards Sebastian Moran: Moriarty’s ‘go to’ man. This was like a stand off, Moriarty and Sherlock, face to face which was a rare occasion. On the other hand, the girls behind the diner knew there was trouble brewing and they scurried to the back of the diner huddling into the cleaning cupboard. Sherlock didn’t intend for there to be a brawl but he couldn't trust himself if Moriarty was the one infront of him. The thing that always pissed Sherlock off about Moriarty was that he could destroy your whole life within a minute and Sherlock couldn’t bare if anything happened to John. Sherlock prayed that John wouldn’t show himself from the toilet anytime soon. 

“Nice day out with your boyfriends?” Moriarty hissed as he peered at the rest of Sherlock’s friends. He hummed suddenly, “there seems to be one missing.” 

Sherlock’s stomach dropped. 

John, from the toilets, could hear a strangers voice echo around the diner. Out of curiosity, fear and the hope Sherlock is okay, John opened the bathroom door and crept outside, his only view from behind the jukebox was Sherlock’s leather covered back and new greasers that he'd never met before. One particular greaser made John’s spine shiver. 

“Does a certain Victor Trevor not see you anymore?” Moriarty grinned. 

Sherlock’s fists automatically tightened and he took a step forward. Just then Moriarty flipped out a pocket knife in front of him as a warning. It was there that Sherlock realised he had came to the diner unarmed. 

“Don’t think that’s an ideal thing to do Sherlock, you’re always so keen to just destroy me aren’t you...” Moriarty said. 

Sherlock inhaled deeply, “This is our diner and we came here not intending to fight.” Sherlock's eyes narrowed towards moriarty as began to make his way over to the booth were his friends sat.

“Oh Sherlock you’re not getting it are you,” Moriarty groaned in annoyance, all of a sudden he pulled out a hand gun. Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. 

“You know I will pull this gun Sherlock, you know I will.” 

John watched with his mouth open. He wanted to launch himself out there infront of Sherlock in attempt to protect him. This particular greaser was dangerous. John also had the common snese not to show himself because Sherlock would be in danger. He wished hard that Sherlock wouldn’t take another step. 

Moriarty looked around the diner, “Shame, we came in here for a beer and the FUCKING BAR MAIDS HAVE RAN OFF!” 

Sherlock could hear the high pitched screams coming from the back cupboard. Sherlock tensed his jaw and ground his teeth together. He couldn't stand the way Moriarty talked to women aswell as men. His eyes bore into Moriarty’s. The man was vile.

John crouched behind the wall and peaked his head above to see the boys clearer. John stumbled a little due to his knees shaking causing a bang against the wooden floor boards. "Fuck," John muttered, steadying his fingertips on the floor to prevent him from shaking even more. 

Sherlock heard the noise behind him and cringed when he saw Moriarty’s head jolt up, “Fresh meet?” Moriarty questioned. 

“No, if you couldn’t hear properly, the noise came from the cleaning cupboard where you made the barmaids hide in,” Sherlock growled. 

Moriarty narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, analysing him, after a moment of intense glaring he finally lowered the gun. “Oh I didn’t make them..." Sherlock knew Moriarty was taking a dig at Sherlock. Sherlock also knew Moriarty was smart and could tell that Sherlock was hiding something. "Aw well,” Moriarty sang, “Until next time Sherlock.” 

Sherlock’s body loosened. 

“Let’s go boys, before the police turn up.” Moriarty sighed, “Nice to have a little chat Sherlock.”

John scurried into the bathroom, when he heard the 'goodbye', as he knew Sherlock would come straight for him.

Sherlock had hate running through his veins. He watched as the greasers left through the way they came in. Sherlock couldn’t think straight. His mind palace was like a hurricane inside him. “Sherlock,” Lestrade said sympathetically. Sherlock tsk'ed at lestrade ignoring his plea to join them.

Sherlock turned on his heels and headed straight into the bathroom. John was standing at the door waiting for him. Once Sherlock clocked John his teeth ground together in atempt to prevent him freaking out. But he couldn’t contain his anger anymore than ten seconds so he grabbed John by his leather lapels and rammed him against the tiles of the bathroom wall.

John stuttered, “Sh-Sherlock I didn’t mean-“

“Shut up, just shut up!” Sherlock shouted. 

John was feared incase his shouting was too intense causing Lestrade to burst into the toilets at any second. John flinched at how close Sherlock was.

“You, you fucking could’ve got caught. He would’ve had you on a stick,” Sherlock rambled, “You’re so stupid oh god.” Sherlock grabbed his hair by his hands frustratingly. “You have no idea what that monster could do to you, to us!”

John could feel the pain emitting from him, “I-I’m sorry-“

Sherlock smashed his lips against John’s. John was surprised at the sudden burst of affection after shouting at him, he pulled away and muttered, “Lestrade can come in here any minute.”

“Ugh,” Sherlock groaned in frustration, “I don’t fucking care.” Sherlock reattached his lips to John’s forcefully. 

John sighed contently before pushing away again, “Sherlock...” he said, barely a whisper. Sherlock proceeded to strip his leather jacket off as he forced his lips to John's again. John wriggled underneath him finally getting the chance to breath, "Fucking hell Sherlock!" John bit.

Sherlock flung himself back. He tensed his jaw in anger then he looked at John who was pressed against the bathroom wall. He immediately untensed looking at John and how he looked somewhat scared. Sherlock gulped, mumbled an apology and slithered out of the bathroom. 

John ran after him as Sherlock wasn’t in the right state of mind to ride home himself. When he entered the bar he noticed Sherlock had gone so he rushed over to the group of greasers that he knew. “Where’d Sherlock go?” He asked. 

“I don’t know but I’m pretty worried about him, he’s probably went home,” Lestrade said. 

John appeared at 221B Baker Street where Mrs Hudson let him in. He noticed how she was shaking violently. “Are you okay Mrs Hudson?” Asked John. 

She couldn’t speak she only pointed up stairs as she sobbed, “it’s Sherlock-“ 

John’s heart hit the floor as he raced up the stairs and burst through Sherlock’s door. John hadn't forgotten the time he found an empty bag of powder in Sherlock's room. At this moment in time Sherlock is capable of anything and nothing can stop him.

“Sherlock,” John shouted before noticing him standing, staring out of the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand. “You fucking scared the shit out of me,” John said as he cautiously approached Sherlock. 

“Look what he does to me John, I can’t stand the man and you,” Sherlock took a deep breath, “You nearly got caught. Can’t you understand what that does to me. You have no fucking idea what he can do to you.”

“You clearly need some rest, he’s got under your skin but you need to calm down.” John murmured. 

“Calm down!” Sherlock boomed. Silence. Sherlock sighed heavily, “Shit, John I’m sorry, it’s just he gets me riled up yano.”

John looked at Sherlock with heartfelt eyes, “it’s fine.” He rolled his shoulders back, “I think I should go.” 

“No, don’t, don’t leave me now,” Sherlock said quietly. He begged. 

Sherlock was practically begging, John had never had Sherlock beg for him so why now? John came to the conclusion that Sherlock was afraid of what he had heard moriarty say. John complied and stood for a moment before clicking his tongue, “Who’s Victor Trevor? Sherlock.”

Sherlock couldn’t look John in the eye, he turned and staggered towards his chair but never actually sitting down, “he was a friend.”

“You seemed to get pretty angry when Moriarty mentioned him, I’d say the anger spurred from sadness.”

Sherlock never replied. 

“He was your boyfriend wasn’t he?” 

Sherlock quickly glanced at John and then away again keeping his mouth shut. 

“You need to answer me Sherlock, this is a conversation. If things are serious between us then I’ve got to know that I’m not your first,” John felt Sherlock’s eyes scan him from head to toe. 

“Who said this was serious?” Sherlock spat as he gulped the whiskey. 

John was taken back, he never expected Sherlock to say such mean words. John had gave this greaser everything that he had gave noone else. John started to feel his blood boil. Sherlock didn’t lie to him as such but he would’ve liked to be open so there was no hidden secrets between them. John stepped closer to Sherlock until he was in his face. Out of anger and jealousy, John hissed, “Did you let him fuck your hand like you let me, huh!” 

Sherlock looked at John having the difficulty to process what John had just said. His heart hurt. Sherlock suddenly slapped John across his face leaving a crimson stain on his left cheek, the contact with skin to skin echoed around the living room. Sherlock immediately regretted it as John cradled the mark. Tearing up he said, “John, I-I’m so sorry.”

John cussed, “fuck you Sherlock Holmes, fuck you.” John snatched his parka from the back of Sherlock’s sofa and left the flat followed by a slammed door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(((

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, this is just a quick chapter:)


End file.
